Mr and Mrs Potter
by HollyGolightly
Summary: Full summary inside, Married couple, Hermione asked Harry if he would still marry her if they could do it all over again, Harry replied no. So what happens when they discover that their marriage, through a technicality, is invalid?
1. Making Up

Mr. and Mrs. Potter

Summary: Harry and Hermione have a marriage full of written rules and regulations. One rule entitles them to ask each other one question per month which the other must answer completely honestly. Hermione asks Harry if he would marry her if he could do it all over again. Harry confides that he misses his freedom. Later that day, an official explains that their marriage is not legal through a technicality. Harry decides to have fun with this fact, but unbeknown to him, the official calls to see Hermione too and disaster results.

Caveat: Yet another story based upon a classic. This is based on the movie Mr. and Mrs. Smith, 1941 with Carole Lombard and Robert Montgomery. The characters belong to J.K Rowling. Everyone is out of character. This is an experimental piece, so bear with me!

A/N: Please review, I am anxious to hear of your input.

Chapter One: Making Up

If anyone were to look in through the window of Harry and Hermione's bedroom, they could see that everything was turned upside down. Dirty plates were stacked on the table. Scattered newspapers and playing cards were all over the room. A disarrayed looking Harry was sitting on the floor against the couch, quietly playing solitaire on the side of the table. In front of him, an unmade bed with wrinkled sheets moved slightly as some bushy brown hair tossed on the pillow. Suddenly there was a knock at the door.

"Breakfast!" the voice on the other side called out.

Harry got up and climbed over the couch to get the door. While his back was turned, the figure in the bed carefully opened her cinnamon brown eyes to sneak a peak. Harry opened the door just wide enough for Winky to hand him the tray. The elf tried looking through the gap to see what was going on inside. Without a word, Harry swiftly grabbed the tray and closed the door behind him. He carried the tray into the room, stepping over the mess that had accumulated on the floor. Having second thoughts about placing it on the plate filled table, Harry moved over by the bed and sets the tray on the chair by the nightstand.

Hermione, without a word, stubbornly tossed around on the bed with her back towards him. Taking the hint, Harry grabbed a few items from the tray and walked back towards the table.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

"Well what are they doing?" Dolby inquired as soon as Winky returned to the kitchen.

"She's under the blankets, and he's playing cards," she told him.

"You didn't look through the keyhole?" Dolby asked.

"Well you couldn't see anything in there anyways," she replied, "I only listened."

Suddenly the phone rang. Dolby walked over to it and answered, "Potter residence. No, Mr. Weasley, they haven't come out yet. Well they just opened the door for breakfast now but they didn't let out any dishes, and I'm running out of dishes!"

"Well they've been in there for three days already," Ron said on the phone from his office, "What's the longest they've keep this thing up? Eight? Well, has Colin arrived yet?"

"He's just came in," Dolby answered, seeing Colin Creevey coming towards him, "Mr. Weasley," he told the boy as he handed him the phone.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley?" Colin said.

"Now listen Colin, that Quidditch contract's got to be signed. I'm depending on you," he heard Ron say.

"I'll come back with it signed, Mr. Weasley," Colin hung up the phone, "Take me to the room," he ordered Dolby.

The elf led him up the stairs to the door of Harry and Hermione's bedroom. Colin rapped the door softly.

No answer.

He knocked again, a little louder.

No answer.

Frustrated, he banged on the door, "Mr. Potter. Mr. Potter! It's me, Colin! From your manager's office!"

Harry looked up from his game.

"Mr. Weasley says you'll have to sign this. We can't keep postponing your case," Colin continued from the other side of the door.

Dolby tapped him on the arm, "Push it under the door," he whispered.

"I'm putting it under the door Mr. Potter." Colin yelled as he shoved a piece of parchment under the door. After a few seconds, the parchment reappeared. Colin picked it up and examined it, "You signed it in pencil!" he said.

"I don't have a pen," Harry replied.

"It's no good in pencil!" Colin complained.

"Well go over it with a quill!"

"I can't! That's forgery!"

"No its not!"

"But, Mr. Potter," Colin pleaded anxiously, "I'm taking my bar examination next June, and I can't afford to get into trouble!"

After a few moments, the door was pushed slightly ajar. Harry's hand appeared and snapped, "Give me a quill and some ink."

Colin smiled, relieved as he handed him the items from his briefcase. Without a word, Harry quickly signed it and handed it back to him.

"Thank you Mr. Potter," he said as he walked off with Dolby.

Harry peeked out into the hall to make sure they had left. He was about to close the door until he noticed some movement on the bed in the corner of his eye. Turning around, he saw Hermione lying still with her back still towards him.

Suddenly, an idea stuck him. He quietly pushed the door ajar even more and quietly ducked behind the couch. Crouching down, he waved his wand and the door slammed shut.

The sudden noise startled Hermione, and she abruptly straightened up from bed. She carried a look of disappointment as she stared at the door. Harry waited a few minutes before slowly getting up from behind the couch. He smiled happily her reaction. Hermione's face lit up as they made eye contact and her lips curled. In a split second, Harry had already leaped his way to the bed and embraced her tightly.

"Thought I left huh?" he placed his head on top of hers.

"Hmm," Hermione sighed.

"What would you do if I walked out that door?" he asked.

Hermione crinkled her eyebrows.

"Leave me?"

She nodded her head weakly.

"Forever?"

Hermione sighed again, snuggling closer to him, "As long as we live, we'll never change that rule."

"What's that?" Harry asked.

"You know, if every married couple had our rule, there would never be a divorce," she said sagely, "They ought to put it in the marriage ceremony."

She looked at him, "You are not allowed to leave the bedroom after a quarrel, unless you made up. It's that simple. Eventually they'll have to make up!"

"Most professional Quidditch players can't afford to stay away from practice three days at a crack," Harry grinned at her.

"Remember the eight day session?" Hermione recalled, "And the six?"

"There were two sixes," Harry chuckled.

"Two?"

"One Christmas week, and uh, finals week of the World Quidditch matches," he said as Hermione playfully pushed his nose.

"That would have been five and a half," she corrected him, "We started in the afternoon."

Harry sighed and kissed her forehead, "How about some breakfast love?" he suggested affably.

Hermione brought her lips upon his in response.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

One of their usual rituals after making up was for Hermione to shave a very scruffy Harry. He laid down on the bench in the bathroom; face covered in shaving cream and with a towel wrapped around his neck as Hermione worked the blade against his skin.

"--respect for each other as persons, that's our big trick," Hermione said.

"Umm hmm," Harry muttered with his eyes closed.

'Man and woman all right, but person to person, that's important in a marriage too," she continued as she wiped the blade with the towel.

"Mmm hmm."

She pushed his chin to one side, "Here make like this," Hermione demonstrated by blowing up the side of her mouth with air.

Harry imitated her as she continued shaving the side of his face, "You know I think we would be friends if we were men or women don't you?"

"Mm hmm."

"Respect for each other as individuals, that's what counts," she said, "Always telling the truth no matter what the consequences. You know I think if we told each other just one lie, we'd have to admit we'd fail wouldn't we?"

"Umm hmm," His eyes now closed again.

"And then what would we have left?" Hermione concluded, "Marriage like other people's. Doubt, distrust, going along with each other because it's the easiest way."

"Mmm hmm."

She rubbed his face, "Your barber is shaving too close," she mentioned, "You should talk to him.

"Mmmright," Harry muttered.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

After they had both showered and dressed, they made their way down to the dining area where Winky had already set up a nice little table for them.

"You know, it was all my fault," Hermione said as she scraped the burnt off of her toast.

"No, my dear, it was mine," Harry took a sip of his tea.

"My fault, dear," she repeated.

He shook his head, "Mine, darling. I shouldn't be jealous so much, and I should lay off your family."

"Umm hmm," she replied, dropping the subject, "What's the date today?"

"Um, darling," Harry glanced at his watch, "I think I better be running along." He started to get up from his seat.

"Oh no honey, not just yet," Hermione objected gently, "Remember, rule number seven."

He sank back down to his chair resignedly, "Yes, but I thought we'd given that one up. It always got us into so much trouble."

"But if we ever give one up, it means we're giving up just that much of our wonderful relationship," she argued, "That we're letting down, you wouldn't want me to feel that, would you?"

"But those questions you ask each month!" Harry protested. It wasn't going to be any use, though; he knew that expression on Hermione's face too well.

"All right, shoot," he conceded warily.

Hermione leaned forward, and her eyes, never larger, never more wistfully brown, looked straight into his, "If you had it all to do over again," she asked very slowly, very clearly, "Would you have married me?"

Harry gave the question a moment of concentrated, intensive study, during which his face went from thoughtfulness to contemplated evasion, then suddenly wore the look of a man who is about to take a dizzying plunge. "Honestly," he replied, taking a deep breath, "Honestly, no."

The moment of silence was broken only by the sharp sound of Hermione's indrawn breath.

"Not that I'd want to marry anyone else," he explained seriously, "But," he paused, searching for the precise words he so desperately needed right now. He leaned forward, his eyes solemn, "The point, is that a man gives up so much when he is married," he continued, "Privacy and independence and, well, I think if I had to do it over again, I'd stay single."

Inescapably aware then of the supercharged silence, the stunned look on Hermione's face, he reminded her with conciliatory haste, "Now honey, you wanted me to tell you the truth because we respect each other, to be honest with each other. Your feelings aren't hurt are they?"

"Oh no," she assured him, too quickly, in a breathless little voice that had gone colorless, "It's perfectly all right."

"That's enough of that," Harry muttered, "Getting into trouble."

"I'm not angry in the least," Hermione forced a smile.

Harry noticed her strained expression, "Oh yes you are! You don't understand!" he exclaimed, "I was merely answering a hypothetical question of what I would do if I had to do it all over again."

Hermione looked down, eyes bleak, mouth tremulous, "Harry, if you want your freedom, I don't want to be the kind of wife who clings to a husband when she's not wanted," she told him bravely.

"Darling, but I do want to be married to you. I love you. I worship you. I'm used to you!" he groaned, "How do we always get into these things?"

"If my only hold on you is that you're use to me--"Hermione started to say.

"Darling," he interjected with remorseful tenderness, "You've got the whole thing wrong! I don't know what I do without you- I-," Harry stopped abruptly as he saw how close she was to tears. He rushed around the table and took her into his arms and held her close, "I wouldn't know what to do without you. I'm crazy about you! I didn't mean anything I said. Forgive me. Say you forgive me!" he pleaded.

There were a number of long kisses later before she relaxed against him, before her lips curved a little in answer to his beguiling, imploring smile.

"Now may I go to practice?" he gave her a puppy dog face.

Hermione nodded. They were in each other's arms until they reached the door.

"I'll come back early," Harry assured her, "And I mean early."

"Don't work too hard dear," she told him.

He gave her a farewell kiss before leaving through the door.

Thanks for reading! Please review, and tell me what you think!


	2. Lupin Visits

A/N: Please read and Review. This story shows the little devil side in Harry. Hope you enjoy! I am also balancing Pride and Prejudice, so I will be going back and forth to update. Thanks a lot!

Chapter Two: Lupin Visits

Harry used the fireplace downstairs in the lobby of his apartment. In a few minutes, he appeared in the lobby of the Quidditch Stadium.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter," the girl at the desk greeted cheerfully, "Welcome back."

Harry muttered a small "Good morning," as he reached the door to Ron's office behind them. He turned around and noticed the girl staring curiously at him. He gave her a strange look before walking into the office.

"Well morning Harry!" Ron announced from his desk.

"Morning Ron," he replied, taking a seat.

Ron gave a little chuckle. Harry rolled his eyes before joining in himself, "Well, you know how she is; you got to humor her in these things."

"Don't apologize to me Harry," said Ron, "I envy you from the bottom of my heart. I wish I was in your shoes."

"Yes, she's a great wife," Harry agreed.

There was a knock. The girl at the front desk appeared at the door.

"Yes what is it Penelope?" Ron acknowledged her.

She turned to Harry, "There's a Mr. Lupin been waiting to see you, Mr. Potter. He won't tell me his business; he says it's something private."

"Ron, you don't mind if I use your office for a few moments do you?" Harry asked him.

"No, not at all," Ron replied.

"Thanks," Harry turned to Penelope, "Send him in here."

Penelope nodded and disappeared behind the door.

"Well, I'll leave you to your misery, Harry," Ron patted him on the back, "Tell old Lupin I said hello. Remember lunch at the pub today?"

"I'll try and make it," Harry replied. Ron exited out the side door as Penelope returned with tall skinny man behind her.

"Mr. Lupin," she announced, stepping aside for the man to enter. She then promptly stepped out and closed the door.

Lupin walked straight up to Harry, studying him intently.

"Well how do you do! Professor Lupin!" Harry extended his hand.

"Please, Harry, I'm no longer your professor! Call me Remus," Lupin smiled as they shook hands.

"Have a seat," Harry pulled up a chair for him.

"Thank you," Lupin sat down, "It's been a long time Harry. How've you been?"

"Good, good," he said, "We've won our last four matches, and it looks like we'll be going into the Championship finals in a month."

"That's great!" Lupin exclaimed, "I'm so glad you and Ron get to work together so often."

"Well he's a great manager," Harry praised, "Never lets me or the team down."

"And how's Mrs. Potter?" Lupin asked.

"Hermione is as lovely as ever," he answered, "Sure we have our share of fights here and now, but we're great."

"Good to hear," Lupin forced a smile, fidgeting at the subject.

Harry observed his strange behavior, "Hey, Remus, what's wrong? Anything the matter?"

He drew in a deep breath and averted his eyes, "Well, Harry, there's something I have to tell you."

Harry frowned, "I don't like that tone of your voice, Professor, what is it?"

"Oh no, no," Lupin assured him, "Don't worry, its nothing too serious, Harry."

"Well?" Harry held his pose, preparing for what he was about to say.

"Okay, here goes," Lupin began, "Remember that night the two of you got married, a few days just after your graduation at Hogwarts?"

"Well sure," Harry recalled fondly, "You performed the marriage ceremony yourself, by the lake."

"Yes, well," Lupin paused for a moment, "I was speaking to Dumbledore about it today, and he let me in on a fact that sheds new light on things."

"What's that?"

"Well, Hogwarts, and the properties around it are not exactly sanctioned by the Ministry of Magic." Lupin explained.

"How could that be?" Harry asked, "It must be! Remember the Tri-wizarding competition and that ordeal with Umbridge during our fifth year?"

"Oh yes," Lupin continued, "Politics wise, the school is under the Ministry, its structure on learning and such, however, physically, the plans of the property are not officially sanctioned by our government. Why did you think that Hagrid was able to bring and keep all those illegal creatures out and about? And so, well, you do follow me don't you?"

Harry thought for a moment, "Umm yes?"

"Well I found out that I had no right to marry the two of you on school grounds," Lupin uttered the last words softly; "It's not legal."

"What do you mean it's NOT legal?" Harry cried out.

"Now now Harry, I don't want you to be frightened or upset or anything," Lupin said, trying to calm him down, "But there's been a kind of a mistake. You're not legally married."

"What's that?"

"Oh, well you really ARE married and everything, in every sense of the word," Lupin comforted him, "There's a little technically. It's perfectly all right, you understand, its just common law and everything. But Dumbledore and I figure, in case, deaths, wills and births, you know, children, we figure it would be better if you got married again, just to be on the safe side." He waited for Harry's reaction.

Harry's expression was neutral as he processed Lupin's story. After a few moments of silence, Harry gave out a light laugh, "Hmm, its kind of funny isn't it?"

Lupin joined in weakly, "I'm glad you're taking this all so well, Harry. I knew you would be able to handle it. Sorry I really can't stay long, I must go now." He stood up from his chair.

"Well thanks for letting me know," Harry walked him to the door.

"Yes, I'm really awfully sorry about it."

"Don't worry," Harry assured him, "It's not your fault."

"Give my love to Hermione, I am rather busy, I really don't have time to stop by," Lupin added.

"I will, thanks a lot Prof-Remus," said Harry.

"Well then, good bye." With that, Lupin left the office.

Harry giggled to himself at the idea again. He walked over to Ron's desk and sat down. He picked up the phone and dialed his house. As it rang, Harry picked up a nearby quill and started doodling on a piece of parchment. He printed the name, Miss Granger and smiled. Taking out his date book Hermione gave him for their anniversary from his inner pocket, he turned to the page for today and scribbled Miss Hermione Granger on the 6:30 line.

"Hello?" the receiver finally picked up.

"Hello dear," Harry said, "Where do you think I'm going to take you for dinner tonight? No. No." He waited for a few more guesses before saying, "No, Madam Puddifoot's."

"Harry! I didn't think you even remember the name of the place!" Hermione said excitedly, "We haven't been there since our last year at Hogwarts. Oh I love you."

"You want to meet me down at the office around six?" Harry asked, "Great! Bye darling,' he hung up the phone smirking to himself.

Thanks for reading! Please Review!


	3. Madame Puddifoot's

A/N: Sorry for posting the chapter rather late. Reviews are appreciated.

Chapter Three: Madame Puddifoot's

Later that same afternoon, Hermione's mother was having tea at her daughter's terrace. However, no part of Hermione's mind was on anything her mother was saying. She had been feeling blissfully happy since Harry's telephone call. For his answer to her question at the breakfast table this morning really hurt her and left her with an unbearable feeling of insecurity. But there could be only one reason for his suggestion that they have dinner at Madame Puddifoot's. He too must have been thinking about his answer to her question and this was his sweet way of assuring her that, if he had it to do all over again, he would marry her.

"Well dear, I must be going," Mrs. Granger stood up from her chair.

"Alright mother," Hermione said, getting up herself.

Her mother was about to leave when Winky opened the door on the terrace, "Mr. Lupin is here to see you," she announces, "He said he was one of your professors at Hogwarts."

"Professor Lupin, here?" Hermione said, surprised, "Please show him in."

A few minutes later, Lupin walked through the door, "Wow, Professor Lupin! What a surprise!" Hermione gave him a hug.

"Hello, Hermione!" he hugged back, "and Mrs. Granger," he extended his hand. "I thought none of you would remember me."

"What are you doing in London?" Mrs. Granger asked.

"I'm on some business," he replied.

Hermione pulled up a chair, "Sit down won't you? And have some tea?"

"Oh no, thanks, I've got a lot to do," he declined politly, "Only dropped in for a second."

Lupin examined her, "Hermione, you haven't a change a bit from the little girl that became Head Girl at Hogwarts."

"Professor, that is the nicest thing you could have said to me," Hermione replied, beaming.

"Please, it's Remus. I was just talking to Harry about you today, and I just couldn't resist on stopping by to see you."

"Oh? What were you doing with Harry?" Hermione inquired.

Lupin drew in his breath, "Well you see, I was talking to Dumbledore yesterday about----"

Hermione and Mrs. Granger listened to his story intently.

"----you're not legally married." Lupin finished.

"That's terrible!" Mrs. Granger exclaimed.

"Oh, no no, its nothing," Lupin assured them, "All you have to do is get married again."

"Well!" Mrs. Granger gasped, "I should say so!"

"Now mother, don't get excited," Hermione said, her eyes dancing, "Harry's going to do right by your little girl!"

"How do you know?" Mrs. Granger asked curiously.

Hermione thought this was perfect. Here she had conjured up a purely hypothetical situation this morning, and nightfall; it had turned into an actuality. Any husband could say he'd do the same thing all over again, but Harry was proving it. Not just announcing casually as some husbands would have, that due to a technicality, they'd have to go through the formality of another ceremony. She had concluded that taking her to Madame Puddifoot's was romantic; having been the setting for the first time he's proposed.

"Because, Harry's already called up and wants us to have dinner for two at Madame Puddifoot's, he'll marry me tonight," explained Hermione.

"I hope so," Mrs. Granger said, without conviction, "Now I must go,"

She and Lupin started heading towards the door, "I hope everything's going to be alright," she repeated gloomily.

"I have to go too, I'm behind schedule. Goodbye, Hermione," Lupin said as he walked out with Mrs. Granger.

"Goodbye, Remus, Mother," she called back.

Her mother turned to her one more time, "Well you'll call me if anything happens, if nothing happens."

Hermione could have laughed outright at her mother's preposterous forebodings. She thought, "Why on earth should anybody have to hope that everything was going to be alright when she herself knew it would be?"

"Winky!" Hermione yelled out. After a few moments, the elf appeared. "You know that blue dress that's hanging in the downstairs closet?"

"Yes"

"I was married in that outfit, and I want to wear it tonight, isn't that wonderful?" said Hermione.

"You know better than I do," Winky smiled. She walked off to retrieve the garment. Together, they spent the rest of the afternoon trying to fit the dress on Hermione.

"Inhale, Mrs. Potter, inhale!" Winky instructed.

"Ooooohhhh!" Hermione cried, frustrated, "I can't understand anything hanging in the closet shrinking so much!"

Through a little help from magic, Hermione was able to enlarge the size of the dress so she could fit, though snuggly. She apparated to the front lobby of the Quidditch stadium at 6:00 sharp. Penelope showed her to the changing rooms just as Harry was putting on his tie.

"Mrs. Potter," Penelope announced, opening the door.

Hermione marched right up to Harry.

"Hello darling," Harry greeted happily, giving her a peck on the cheek, "I thought you weren't going to buy anymore new clothes."

He examined her carefully, "Say, you look kind of cute!"

Hermione smiled, "You know, I can't wait see Madame Puddifoot's! Do you think we'll get the same table?"

"Oh sure."

"With that small circular table and the floating cherubs with the pink confetti," Hermione recalled, a dreamy look appeared on her face, "You know, I even love the smell of the place?"

Harry laughed at her enthusiasm and kissed her again.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

They shortly arrived in front of Madame Puddifoot's, after strolling through Hogsmeade. Sniffing the aroma, they turned to each other with a perplex look on their faces.

"Either our noses have changed, or they built a horses' stable around here," Harry remarked.

"It's not exactly Chanel 5," Hermione agreed, "Come on, lets go in."

They slowly entered the establishment. Harry and Hermione's jaws fell in disappointment as they looked around. It bore no resemblance whatever to the place they had so fondly remembered. Madame's Puddifoots's have been remodeled into a cheap, decrepit pub. All the frilly decorations have disappeared, and the circular tables have been replaced by creaky, square ones covered by a tacky checkered-pattern tablecloth. Instead of trysting couples, the patrons of the place seem to be those that fit the description of wizards who frequent Hog's Head. There were only a few people sitting at the bar. A hooded man was sitting in one of the tables. A small black cat on the same table is stealing food from his plate as he was looking away. The man turned around and brushed the cat away. He finally noticed Harry and Hermione standing there.

"The place has changed a little," Harry whispered to Hermione facetiously.

"Customers!" the man announced loudly.

Suddenly, the door opened behind him and a grumpy looking old man with long grey hair and beard appeared. Harry and Hermione made their way over to him.

"Is Madame Puddifoot here?" Harry asked.

"I'm Madame Puddifoot," he grumbled.

Harry exchanged glances with Hermione and chuckled, "Umm, you've changed a little too."

"She's sold the place. She retired a year ago," the man started to turn away.

"Hey wait a minute!" Harry cried out, "We'd like to eat here."

The man raised his eyebrows, "You want to eat HERE?"

Hermione smile weakly and nodded.

Harry grinned, "Yes, if you haven't any objections."

"If you've got no objections, I've got no objections. Where would you like to sit?" he asked.

Hermione finally spoke out, "Well we've used to come here years ago and there used to be tables outside," she mentioned, "Would it be too much trouble to have it the way it used to be?"

The man gave her an odd look, "Are you going to have the two galleons dinner or the four galleons dinner?"

"Four," Harry responded.

"Okay," the man said. He quickly sets up one of the tables out by the corner of the street. To make some effort, he placed a white tablecloth instead and added a candle in the center.

Harry and Hermione awkwardly sat down across from each other. Harry looked at the table, "The tablecloth isn't checkered," he observed, "It's dirty enough to look checkered."

"Oh, the candle stuck in the butterbeer bottle add a lot of class too," Hermione muttered sarcastically. They looked out into the street and saw a small crowd, mostly children, starting to gather nearby just staring at them.

"Haven't they seen anyone eat before?" Harry said, looking annoyed.

"Lets just outstare them," Hermione suggested, "That'll make them embarrassed!"

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

After a few minutes of the staring contest, the couple gave up and reluctantly went back inside. They are now sitting in the same table where the hooded man had eaten his dinner. The cat however refused to move and is now lying on the table right next to Hermione.

Harry could not help but stare at the cat.

"Just eat your soup dear," Hermione said.

"There's something wrong with that soup!" Harry complained, looking at the bowl suspiciously.

"It's your imagination," she dismissed.

"Why doesn't the cat eat the soup?" he pointed out, "Animals know what's good for them. You notice he ate the olives."

"The pits too," she added.

"Oh, that's roughage," Harry reasoned.

"Make the best of it darling," Hermione pleaded, "Don't let it spoil our evening."

"That cat knows something," he said, not taking his eyes off the cat.

"Uh, where shall we go after this?" Hermione asked with apparent casualness.

"Home," he told her cheerfully, as though that were the only possible answer.

Hermione frowned, "Home? Aren't- aren't we supposed to go some place before we go home?" She tensed up thinking surely he had kept up this pretense long enough.

Harry looked at her with maddening blandness as though he had not the slightest idea what she might be implying, "Altogether it would be too late." He turned his attention back to the cat, "I'd give 10 galleons to see the cat take a sip of that soup!"

Hermione was trying to not let her frustration show, "Harry?"

"Yes dear?"

"Tell me what you do in a day at the stadium, just a simple day like today," Hermione asked him specifically, "From the time you went in until we met up, what happened?"

Harry's entire attention seemed to be centered on his soup, "Oh, nothing," he answered with a stifled yawn, "uh, it's dull as dishwater really."

"Oh no it isn't, I'm very interested," Hermione leaned in, elbows on the table, "What sort of things go on in a day? Who did you see? Please try and remember."

Harry's slanted brows drew together, as though remembering was an effort. Then he smiled brightly as if suddenly recalling something of value, "Uh, let me see," he looked away, " I went to see Ron at his office in the morning, uh, we went over some new plays, and uh, That's about all, I spent most of my day out in the field practicing, its hard to catch up after three days."

Hermione sat rigid, all her muscles tightening.

Harry, feeling satisfied with his answer turned back to the cat and pushed his bowl right up to it, "I wonder if he'll take a little soup. Go on," he encouraged the animal, "Go on! No, he won't. Doesn't that mean something? I want my stomach pumped!"

Hermione remained silent as Harry continued to play around stirring his soup with a spoon. She was just about to say something when the owner made his way over to their table.

"Nice cat eh? I'm unlucky with cats here. Third cat this week," the owner remarked.

Harry dropped his spoon alerted.

"They get run over," he explained.

A relieved Harry picked up his spoon again.

"I think," the owner added nonchalantly, he turned to Hermione, "Your name Mrs. Potter?"

"Yes," she responded, "How did you know?"

"Your mother is in the kitchen," he informed her, "On the phone."

"Oh," Hermione said nervously, "Well, it must about the family reunion, or something," She got up and followed the man into the kitchen where he handed her the receiver.

"Hello mother," she answered. Hermione glanced behind her back and whispered into the phone, "Not exactly. He's teasing me. Thinks he's being romantic about it. Mother, are you crying?"

"Oh my poor baby!" Hermione heard her say, "Listen to me now! Under no conditions, do you hear me, to-to"

"Why mother! Of course not!" she assured her, "Yes mother, worse comes to worse, I'll spend the night with you. Yes, goodbye mother."

She hung up the telephone. Composing herself, she made her way back to the table.

"Everything alright?" Harry asked as she sat down.

"Yes."

"Darling, I have a little secret to tell you," he said.

Hermione heaved out a huge sigh of relief, her face lighted as though sunlight had fallen upon it, "Well it's about time! What is it?" she asked almost too eagerly.

"You're a great girl," Harry told her with a grin.

Hermione pushed back her chair with a harsh scraping sound, her unsmiling gaze held his.

"Its getting rather late if we have to go anyplace," she informed him distinctly and significantly, "If you know what I mean."

"I get it," Harry smirked and yelled out, "Waiter! The bill!"


	4. Truth Revealed

A/N: Thanks a lot for the Reviews! I've decided to continue on with the story since most of you are interested. I did try to add some more imagery to the scenes, but it's kind of difficult since I like to concentrate on dialogue and has a habit of neglecting description of the setting. Suggestions are appreciated! Now I bring you, the next chapter of Mr. and Mrs. Potter.

Chapter Four: Truth Revealed

"He'll tell me the second we get home then," Hermione thought desperately as they were leaving the restaurant, "He had probably even made arrangements for us to be married there at once." Convincing herself of this, she relaxed.

It was only after they had reached home that she realized he had no intention of telling her. Harry suggested to Hermione to go prepare some drinks as he headed into their bedroom. Hurt, anger and incredulity washed over her as she mixed the drinks. As she poured, her thoughts merged into a wave of seething rage. She stopped what she was doing and started pacing around in disbelief.

Meanwhile, Harry was in the room whistling to himself as he prepared for their incredible night. He examined himself once more in the mirror before strolling out of the room nonchalantly clad in pajamas. He ducked just in time as a ceramic pot aiming for his head shattered against the door behind him.

"YOU BEAST! YOU KNOW WE'RE NOT MARRIED! YOU WERE NEVER GOING TO TELL ME!" Hermione screamed at the top of her lungs.

Harry gulped, "I was going to tell you honey! I was going to tell you later!" he said hoarsely, in a voice he tried to make convincing.

"Later? How much later could you have told me?"

"There's no need in going on like this!" Harry said trying to calm her down.

Like a bonfire out of control, her temper blazed higher and higher, "You were going to wait until-"

"Mione!" he cried.

"And then throw me aside like a squeezed lemon!" she concluded with seething rage.

"Squeezed lemon? Don't dramatize this! "Harry protested.

"I've given you the best years of my life and you were willing to go on and on!" Hermione continued to rant pointing at him accusingly, "I've always had a suspicion about you, and so did my mother! Your forehead slants back too much!"

He tried to get closer to her, "Will you please let me say-"

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" she yelled.

"But, Mione-"he begged frantically.

It was too late. Hermione walked pass him to the bedroom doorway, "GET OUT! Go on! You're not staying here!" She pointed to the door.

"But we can't leave the bedroom until after we've made up," Harry told her.

"You're not in the bedroom. GET OUT!" she screamed.

"Hermione! Listen to me!"

"I now know you for what you are and lucky I found you out!" Her face livid, she dashed into the bedroom, scooped up the heap of his discarded clothes and raced through the living room, "You're getting out of here!"

"Those are my clothes!" Harry exclaimed, trying to catch up to her.

"Never come back! I never want to see you again as long as I live!" Hermione flung the clothes out of the apartment door.

"What are you doing!" he yelled out before running outside to retrieve his clothes.

Hermione seized the opportunity to slam the door and lock it shut. Upon hearing the noise, Harry turned around, now facing the door. In his pajamas and without a wand, he desperately banged on it until his hands were bruised.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

After a few hours, a defeated Harry made his way to the Leaky Cauldron.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter" Tom greeted him at the desk.

"Good evening Tom," Harry replied, "Have you a room for a man officially in the doghouse?"

"I'm sure we have," without any questions, he turned to retrieve a room key, "Quite an honor seeing you here sir. Can't remember you spending the night here in three years sir. Here you are," Tom handed him the key.

Harry breakfasted the next morning in the dining room while observing the guests, much like he did during his extended stays as a Hogwarts student.

"Hello Potter!" a familiar voice greeted him from behind.

Harry turned and looked up, "Hey Seamus!"

Seamus took a seat next to him. He noticed Harry's glum expression and gave him a knowing look, "I had a fight with my wife too."

"It wasn't exactly a fight," Harry retorted while sipping his tea.

"You know what I can't understand?" Seamus pointed out, "Whenever two people have a fight, the wife usually goes home to her mother. But when I have a fight, I have to get out of the house."

"Heh," Harry asked, "How do you get back?"

"Simplest thing in the world," Seamus revealed as if it was some huge secret, "Ignore it. Ignore the whole thing. The next day, they're dying to see you. Take it from me brother, I've had experience."

"Yeah," Harry pondered for a moment, "Just go to practice. Don't even telephone. She worries, why I don't come back. And when I do get back..."

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

That night, Harry returned to their flat, carrying a bouquet of flowers as a peace offering. As he reached the doorbell, he noticed the nameplate above it had been changed to read: "Miss Hermione Granger." Without haste, he casts a spell to change it back to: Mr. and Mrs. Potter."

It took several rings before Winky answered the door. She opened as much as the newly installed brass chain on the lock would allow.

"What can I do for you?" she asked as if she's never met him before.

"What can you do for me?' Harry repeated with a vexed expression, "What's this?"

"A chain to keep people out," Winky answered simply.

"Well open it up!" he commanded.

"Ms. Granger is not at home."

"Ms. Granger is not at home," he echoed sardonically, "I'm going to come in and wait!

You open that up or I'll dismiss you!" he threatened.

"You're not in the position to dismiss me sir," Winky responded callously, "I know how you've been acting towards her and all I can say about what she's done is it's about time."

Harry held his wand out and was about to tap the chain when Winky noticed and slammed the door quickly, forcing his wand to fall inside the flat.

He banged on the door, "Hey! What about my wand!"

In spite of the repeated rings and knocks, the door never opened. Finding himself again in this similar situation, Harry walked down to the lobby to wait for Hermione's return.

He sat himself down on a chair by a potted tree in the corner where he had a good view of the front door. It wasn't until after midnight when Harry spotted Hermione walking into the building with another man. His eyes grew wide as he recognized whom it was.

"Thank you for a wonderful evening, Draco," Hermione smiled as they reached the lift.

"I'll take you upstairs," Draco offered, extending his hand.

Hermione politely refused, "No, that's quite alright, I had a wonderful time."

"I did too, Hermione," he leaned in to kiss her.

"Oh no no no, Draco," she shook a finger at him teasingly.

Draco raised his eyebrows, "Better luck next time." He grabbed her hand and kissed it, "Good night."

"Good night," Hermione blushed as she stepped into the lift. She gave a final wave before the doors closed.

Draco watched her until she left his sight. He turned to leave, but instead, came face to face with a very pissed off Harry.

Harry merely glared at him, "Malfoy," he muttered biting his lip. He walked around him to the lift, without breaking his stare, meanwhile fighting every urge to punch his face in.

Draco stared back with a look of pure amusement. Flashing his famous smirk, he walked off.

Harry raced out of the lift once he'd reached their floor. He marched down the hall and banged hard at their front door.

"Open the door!" Harry yelled, "I know you're in there. Now this is ridiculous! I saw you downstairs with Malfoy! Open this door!"

The door opened slightly; with the chain lock in use. "Here's your wand!" As the wooden stick flew out into the hall, the door slammed back shut.

"Hermione! You open the door!" Harry banged on the door a few more times, getting angrier and angrier at each knock. Frustrated, he threw the bouquet of flowers down on the ground.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

The next morning, after his second night at the Leaky Cauldron, he arrived back at their building just in time to see Hermione come out of the front door and step into a waiting taxi. Sprinting as fast as he could, Harry opened the cab door and flung himself into the seat beside her, just as the motor started. The driver gave him a strange look and hesitated to go.

"Go on! Go on!" Harry told him.

The cab driver shrugged his shoulders and droved on. Hermione had merely looked at him with cool disinterest, so the conciliator words Harry had intended to say, had changed to exasperation.

"Now, are you going to stop this silly farce or aren't you?" he demanded irately, "I've just been through a three day session of this nonsense and I haven't any more time for these games of yours. You can come home now, and I'm willing not to discuss it anymore!"

Hermione stared straight ahead without even bothering to look at him, "That's very generous of you," she told him with a knife edge of sarcasm, "But who do you think you're talking to?"

"My wife!" he puffed out.

"We're not married," she replied with a small, maddeningly superior little smile.

"Are you out of your mind?" Harry squeaked, "Certainly we're married! What do you mean after three years we're not married?"

Hermione finally met his eyes, "Legally, we're not married," she told him callously.

"Oh, for Merlin sakes!" he huffed, "Alright we'll get married! Does that satisfy you?"

"We'll get married," she repeated coldly, "That's a nice snarling proposal. Listen here, you had a hard enough job getting me to marry you before when I didn't know where this road would get us to. But I do know now, and HOW I know it! If anyone asks me, you're no bargain."

Harry pondered her words for a moment, "Well, what's wrong with me?"

"I don't want this discussion to run into hours," Hermione replied while shifting herself away from him, "I've very busy."

"Well, name one thing about me that you don't like!"

"One thing?" she scoffed, "My, aren't we vain?"

"One thing I am not is vain!" he rebutted.

"What about that tar stuff that you keep rubbing your head that smells up my whole bedroom?" Hermione mentioned.

"I am only trying to save my hair for you!" Harry informed her, "And you're a fine one to talk, going to bed with those aluminum clips in your hair. You turned over one night and cut me in twenty places!"

"You needn't worry," Hermione turned away, looking out the window, "You won't be cut anymore!"

"I'm not going to stand anymore of this and that's my final word on the matter!" he exclaimed.

"Nice to have met you," she replied plainly.

Harry sighed in annoyance, "I'm not going to support you, what do you think of that?"

"Fine." Hermione said unaffected.

"No, I mean it!" he proclaimed, "You're not getting anymore money!"

"Who asked you?" she said as the cab pulled to the side of the road. Hermione handed the driver a few coins before stepping out. Harry immediately followed her into the building.

"How do you think you're going to live?" he asked.

She made no reply.

"I said, how do you think you're going to live?" Harry repeated.

Hermione waved to the guard at the desk as she passed by, "Good morning"

"Good morning," the guard greeted.

Harry tried to follow but was held back by the guard.

"Hey, where are you going sir?" the guard asked pointing to the sign above which read: Ministry Personnel only.

Looking around, Harry finally realized that he was inside the Ministry of Magic building. He gave the guard a nod before walking out. Remembering the procedures from his fifth year, Harry went to seek out the telephone booth to access visitor's entrance.

Thanks a lot for reading the story. PLEASE REVIEW!


	5. Ministry of Magic

A/N: Sorry, it took long to update. I had to reformat my entire drive. Very sad. Anyways, I hope you guys do some more reviews. Sorry to disappoint some of you, it will not be a D/HR (However, if you would like to read something like that, I recommend you read my other fic, Pride and Prejudice), there's more to come. Let me know how you guys like it.

Chapter Five: Ministry of Magic

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business," the voice said inside the telephone box.

"Harry Potter," he answered, "I'm here to see my wife!"

"Thank you," the voice said coolly. "Visitor, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes."

A square silver badge with "Harry Potter, Marriage Dispute Settlement" engraved on it slid out of the metal chute of the telephone.

Harry grabbed it hastily and pinned it on his shirt. The voice announced, "Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium."

The floor beneath him started to sink into the ground. A few minutes later, Harry found himself standing at one end of a very long and splendid hall with a highly polished dark wood floor.

"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day," the voice said.

Harry maked his way down the hallway and passed the Fountain of Magical Brethren. "I'll put 10 galleons into this thing if I ever do get out of this," he thought.

Finally, he found the security desk.

"Step over here please," the guard instructed in a monotone voice.

Harry walked closer to him. The wizard waved a long golden rod up and down.

"Wand," the security guard requested.

Harry produced his wand. The guard placed the stick onto the brass instrument. After a few seconds, a slip of parchment came out of the base.

"Eleven inches, phoenix-feather core, been in use for nine years?"

"Yes," Harry answered impatiently.

The guard handed back his wand. Harry proceeded through the golden gates, scanning around the stream of wizards and witches walking by.

"Are you looking for something?" one of the personnel asked him.

"Yes." Harry replied without looking at him, "I'm trying to find- oh no-no- never mind I'll find it myself." He started walking off.

"I might be able to save you a lot of trouble," the man insisted as he followed Harry, "I'm very well acquainted with the place."

"No, I just rather run across it myself," Harry retorted.

"Are you sure, sir?" he asked again.

"Yes!" Harry said in frustration walking faster away, "Don't tell me anything. It's a game I'm playing!"

"Very well then," the man offended, went on about his business.

Harry turned around the corner and managed to catch a glimpse of cinnamon brown hair ducking inside an office. He swiftly made his way over to the room. At first glance, he could see no one inside. Harry promptly walked over to the center desk.

"I see you," said Harry, "You might as well come up."

Hermione reluctantly emerged from her desk, with a scornful expression.

"Anything I can do for you sir?" she asked in a cold manner.

"Are you crazy?" Harry exclaimed, "Will you please do me a favor and come home? I'm supposed to be at practice this morning!"

"Well, I'm sorry, sir" Hermione replied nonchalantly, "I think you have the wrong department. We have nothing here for you."

"Are you going to come out of here peacefully or do I have to carry you?" he threatened.

Hermione meanwhile, spotted another personnel watching them by the doorway. She quickly plastered a smile on her face, "Oh, and the most wonderful feature about this," she picked up a copy of the Daily Prophet, "It'll automatically update on its own! You'll never have to throw the paper out ever again!"

Harry, unaware of anyone standing behind him, was losing his temper. He grabbed the paper from her and threw it behind his shoulder, "Well it suits me!"

Hermione's eyes bulged, "No!" she cried out. Harry grabbed both of her hands and started pulling her away from the desk. She made her best effort to resist, knocking a few things off the desk in the process.

The man from the doorway marched in amidst the commotion, "Miss Granger! What are you doing to him?"

"I'm not doing anything!" Hermione protested "Look who's got who!" Mr. Wimple turned to Harry, "I'll have to ask you to release our employee," he said calmly.

"Do you want to try and make me release her?" Harry grunted angrily.

"If you're not pleased with her, we can find someone else that can help you with your business here." Mr. Wimple told him simply.

"I'm pleased with her all right," Harry gritted his teeth, "But she's no employee! She's my wife!"

"Your wife?" Mr. Wimple raised his eyebrows.

"I am not!" Hermione yelled back, still struggling out of Harry's grasp.

"Miss Granger," Mr. Wimple stated, "We understood you were a single woman. As an aid to the unemployment crisis, it is our policy not to employ married women."

"And quite right too!" Harry agreed.

"I am NOT married!" Hermione screamed.

"She's married alright!" Harry rebutted.

Mr. Wimple lets out a frustrated sigh, "We'll have to take this up with the head of our department."

"Well just take me to him!" Hermione said confidently.

"Lets ALL go!" Harry declared, finally letting go of her hands.

"This way please," Mr. Wimple spun around leading them off. He showed them across the other side of the building. As he opened the door, Harry wasted no time and marched into the office.

He stood before the desk, staring at the man behind it. "Malfoy," he growled in a low voice. He turned to Hermione who was smirking involuntary at the shocking look on his face.

"This gentlemen claims he's married to our Miss Granger," Mr. Wimple informed Draco.

"We're not marri-" Hermione started to say.

"Oh we're married alright!" Harry interjected, facing her, "Say, where did you meet this monkey?"

"Luna helped set a meeting with him," Hermione replied.

"That's the last time I want you to talk to Luna," he told him adamantly, "I never liked her very much in the first place!"

Hermione disregarded what he was saying and focused her attention to the desk, "Draco, when I told you I was single-" Hermione tried to explain.

"She is not, ferret boy!" Harry interrupted, "And what do you mean by taking out innocent girls the night before you give them a job in this dump?"

"I am NOT innocent!" she yelled at him.

"See there, she admits it!" Harry grinned victoriously, "She's my wife!"

"I didn't admit anything!" Hermione screamed.

Draco finally stood up, "Are you referring to ME as ferret boy?" he asked in a condescending manner.

"Sit down!" Harry pushed him back into his seat.

Draco gave Mr. Wimple a slight nod.

"Crabbe and Goyle," Mr. Wimple said to himself as he left Draco's office, "I'll get Crabbe and Goyle!"

A few moments later, Harry and Hermione found themselves being forcibly dragged out of the building by Malfoy's henchmen.

Hermione looked at him sternly, "Are you satisfied now?"

"I really have to go to practice," Harry pleaded, "Will you make up with me?"

"No!" Hermione shook her head, tears starting to stream down her face, "I'm not going to make up with you ever!"

"For Merlin's sake, Mione," Harry asked her in a more sincere tone, "What's the matter with you?"

Hermione avoided his stare and stared at the ground.

"In the morning, I said that if I had to do it all over again, I wouldn't want marry you," he said, "And now I have a chance to do it all over again and I want to come back! Doesn't that convince you that I want to stay married to you?"

Looking up at him, "Oh I believe that you want to get married again, and I'm very flattered," she said with an impersonal, judicial coolness, "But I don't want to marry you. I thought it all over and I'm not interested."

Harry's jaw dropped "But what's the matter with me?" he managed to squeak out.

"Well I don't like your temper! You're jealous! You're always knocking people down--"

"If you are referring to New Year's Eve, I don't think that that drunk had any right to pick up your garter and wave it around!" he told her defensively.

A few people started to gather around them on the street, curious as to what all the commotion was about. Harry and Hermione took no notice.

"It wasn't my garter," she argued, "I was wearing my garter!"

"That was after you've gone into the ladies room and gotten Ginny's garter!"

"They were MY garter!"

"THEY WERE GINNY'S GARTER!"

Hermione tilted her head suspiciously, "How do you know they were Ginny's garter?"

"I knew they weren't YOUR garter!" he puffed out.

By now, there must be around thirty people gathered to witness their display.

"I don't know what you two are selling," a bobby, now standing beside them interrupted, "But do you have a license to get this crowd around?"

"What do you mean license?" Harry finally noticed the mass of people surrounding them. He turned to the cop again, feeling frustrated, "Go on about your business!" he shooed.

"Go on, hit him why don't you?" Hermione suggested sardonically, "Knock him down! Go ahead!"

"Madam, I wouldn't advise your friend to strike an officer down in this town," warned the cop.

"Oh officer," she replied in an innocent and casual manner, "I'm on your side. I don't even know this man."

"I see," the officer turned to Harry, "Well, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave." Hermione, with a triumphant look, walked off in one direction.

"No, you go this way," he pointed Harry in the opposite direction.

"No, but you can't-you can't do this to me!" Harry protested, backing away from the cop.

PLEASE REVIEW! I will love you! Love everything about you! Thinking about being you for Halloween!


	6. Executing the Plan

A/N: Thanks for all the kind reviews! Really appreciating it. Now the plot thickens as I bring you the next chapter in Mr. and Mrs. Potter! Enjoy!

Chapter Six: Executing the Plan

Harry woke up early the next morning, having spent yet another night at the Leaky Cauldron. Someone was knocking on the door just as Harry was sitting at the edge of the bed tying his shoes.

"Come in," he called out without bothering to turn around.

Ron entered, promptly greeting, "Hello Harry."

"Hello," Harry replied.

"Postponed the contract agreement with the International Association of Quidditch until Tuesday," Ron informed him while pacing about the room.

"Fine," he muttered in a monotone voice, still looking down, "Just fine."

Ron studied his friend closely before taking a seat next to him on the bed. "I like to ask you to do something Harry," he said.

"I'll get my work cleaned up in no time at all," Harry assured him, "I - I can't seem to get my mind on it right now."

"Oh that's alright Harry," Ron replied, "You don't know what I'm going to ask you yet."

"Sure," Harry gave out a weak laugh, "Anything you want, you know."

Ron stared at him for a few moments before speaking. "I like to have you drop in at you own home tonight," he said, "After dinner."

Harry gives him a curious glance before getting up to walk around, "What do you mean?"

"Well, I took matters into my own hands and asked Hermione to have me for dinner," he explained, "She's fond of me and she knows I'm fond of her."

Harry looked at him inquisitively.

"Well, I think I can straighten this thing out," Ron added, "I hope it IS something I can straighten out."

"Oh yes, it's nothing at all," Harry's face lit up, "It's just a little marital quarrel, its nothing at all really."

"Hmm, I imagine it was that," he nodded thoughtfully, giving Harry an understanding and reassuring smile, "You're too fine to do anything stupid."

"Well now," Ron stood up to meet his face, "I like to have you just drop in unannounced at shall we say, nine o clock?"

The expression on his clean-cut face was so sympathetically encourage, so exactly as though the reconciliation were already accomplished, that Harry's eager gratitude was almost pathetic.

"Ron-I-" Harry swallowed hard, almost choking up.

"That's alright," he patted him on the back.

Harry extended his hand out, "You're the best friend a man ever had."

"I'm your manager," Ron said shaking his hand.

"You're the best manager a man ever had."

"We were school chum!"

"You're the best keeper that Gryffindor ever had," Harry remarked, "I think O'Hara is great." He patted Ron on the shoulder, "O'Hara couldn't touch you."

"Thanks Harry," Ron replied.

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

On his way home tonight, Harry resolved, with something very like humility, that no matter what happened, no matter what humble pie Hermione made him eat, no matter what she said or did, he wouldn't muff his chances this time. He was still grinning as he stepped off the lift onto their floor.

Harry rang the doorbell, noticing that the sign above it, once again read, "Miss Hermione Granger."

The door opened slightly, still being secured with the chain.

"May I come in?" he asked with a polite smile.

"I'll see," Winky answered coldly before shutting the door.

Harry straightened his tie as he waited in the hall. A few seconds later, the door opened widely

"It's alright," Winky told him.

Harry rushed past the elf and quickly made his way to the living room. "Hello Hermione," he said.

Though Hermione and Ron had obviously been waiting for him, his delighted smile of greeting brought no answering smile to either of their faces. Rather, they wore the look of people anxious to have an unpleasant duty over with. Then Ron takes a step forward. But this was not the helpful, encouraging Ron he had talked to in his room just this morning. Not that he was unfriendly. He was simply as formally courteous as though Harry was a slight acquaintance.

"Harry, I want you to talk to my lawyer," Hermione pointed to Ron.

"Your lawyer?" he asked, puzzled, "What lawyer?"

"Hermione has asked me to represent her in this matter Harry," Ron answered pleasantly.

"Oh? What for?" Harry inquired amusingly, sitting down on the armrest of the couch.

"I've been telling her she doesn't need a lawyer," he explained.

Harry chuckled, "I'll say she doesn't."

"She just told me all about it," Ron continued, "As I understand the facts of the case, you two aren't married at all."

"There you are," Hermione said.

"What?" Harry's completely bewildered look went first to Hermione, standing there as impersonally as though she were merely witnessing a play, then back to Ron again.

"So there's nothing for the court to decide," he finished.

"This happened before in Peterson vs. Peterson, and Fudge even threw it out of the Wizengamot," Hermione added with an air of superiority.

"Say, what's the matter with you?" Harry demanded blankly.

"Ron said that you're lucky this isn't the south of the United States and I'm not his sister," Hermione contributed, in her cool remote voice. She then took a seat on the couch.

Harry glared over at Ron, "Why, you hillbilly ambulance chaser!" he shouted.

"Now, there's no need to lose our tempers," Ron observed, unruffled.

"We're married, if not legally, then by common law, that's just as good. It's better!" Harry retorted.

"Ohh, I don't deny there's a kind of common law relationship between the two of you," Ron told him.

Hermione is in rapture as she witnessed the exchange between them, "Tell him the whole thing Ron."

Fingers together, as though he were addressing a jury, Ron went on, "However, the woman has given the benefit of any difficulty arising out of such relationship. For instance, should you die, as a wife; she is entitled a share of the husband's estate."

"That's great," Harry said facetiously, "When I die, she'll get the furniture!"

"Now, you are entitled to hold yourself forth as the husband."

"I am holding myself forth as the husband!" Harry yelled out, "I wish you tell me something I don't know!"

"Should the woman care to hail this relationship and marry someone else, she is entitled to do so," he cited with unstressed lucidity.

"You are suppose to be my best friend," Harry said bitterly, "and you tell her a thing like that!"

"Harry, now, I have never taken advantage of our friendship by word or deed," Ron answered with dignity, "And it is only because you're standing here that I can now ask Hermione---" he cleared his throat and walked over to Hermione, giving a courtly bow, "Would you care have dinner with me tomorrow?"

For the first time, animation touched Hermione's face, "Where?" she asked delightedly.

Harry's voice roughed with jealous resentment, cut into her words, "I'm asking you, Hermione, to come to your senses and marry me tomorrow!" he said tersely placing himself between her and Ron, "If you have dinner with him tomorrow night, this is final! We're through!"

Hermione didn't even pay him the courtesy of answering directly. Instead, she turned her enchanting smile to Ron by looking over Harry's shoulder, "What time?"

"We're through," Harry repeated, walking off, "from now on, we're just friends."

"Not necessary," Hermione retorted, "The Stork club alright?" she asked Ron on a silvery note of anticipation.

Harry's mouth went suddenly young and hard, and his hands made a gesture of breaking something in two.

"Anywhere you say," Ron beamed.

Harry marched angrily to the door. He noticed that the heavy door chain was the kind held in place by a slot at each end. As Ron and Hermione were saying their goodbyes to each other, he unostentatiously removed the chain from both slots and slipped it into his own pocket.

"I'll call for you at eight o clock," Ron said to her.

"That would be fine," she replied, "Good night Ron."

"Good night Hermione," Ron walked to the door, just behind Harry.

Harry opened the door nonchalantly, "Good night Hermione," he said before stepping outside.

The two men stood outside waiting for the lift. Harry examined him with disgust, thinking how he had been betrayed once more by one of those ingenious inspirations of his that always seemed so brilliant to him at the time. Ron swayed back and forth nervously trying to avoid his gaze. Harry stared at him throughout the entire time on the lift. They walked side by side together out the front door.

"Comparing yourself with O'Hare as a Quidditch player," Harry snarled, "You couldn't carry O'Hare's water bucket!"

"Goodbye Harry," Ron said simply before heading off in one direction.

After he and Ron had separated at the front door, Harry discreetly walked around the block twice, the re-entered the apartment building where he held an earnest conversation with the lift operator. A second later, a few galleons changed hands, and the boy was taking him up to Hermione's flat.

Harry gestured the boy to ring the doorbell.

"Who is it?" Hermione's voice called out.

"Oh Mrs. Potter? Could I see you for moment please?" the boy answered as instructed.

"Just a minute," she responded as she started unlocking the door.

As the lift operator left, Harry maneuvered himself so that his shoulder would be ready to shove the door back to its full width as soon as Hermione opened it. But the position he was inadvertently caught in was not the strategic one that he planned. Hermione opened the door sooner than he had expected and upon seeing him, she slammed the door with such force and suddenness that, in the position he was in, he received the full impact of it, agonizingly across his nose.

Harry gently covered his nose with his hand, trying not to think about the pain. As he turned away, Hermione opened the door slightly calling out "Good night dear."

He turned to face her.

"Your nose is bleeding," Hermione added with vicious sweetness. With that, she closed the door firmly, and locked it.

Dum Dum Dum. Things are still not looking good for Harry. What will he do now? Stay tuned!


	7. Night at the Stork Club

A/N: Thanks again for all the reviews! I know some likes it, others don't, and that's perfectly fine.

To answer some reviews: the reason why Harry just can't apparate into the flat because there is a charm protecting it, like Hogwarts. Remember, Harry usually leaves the building before apparating anywhere.

I like to make it clear that this story is not for people who are into happy couples in a perfect world. There are obstacles in life and no one here is perfect. I just hope no one is wasting their time. But I can assure it will end H/HR happily. I know it's been a while since I updated but I have been working hard! Bare with me, I'm not much of an imagery writer, because I'm all about the dialogue. But I did try! Please continue to read and review!

Chapter Seven: Night at the Stork Club

"Are you sure that stuff is good for a nosebleed?" Harry handed Seamus back his bottle of firewhiskey. Another day has gone by and both men are now sitting together, sulking by the bar at the Leaky Cauldron. Harry was holding an ice pack gently on his still painful nose, with his head down.

"Best thing in the world. I always use it." Seamus said, looking at the bottle more intently, "Then I don't know, I use it for everything." He removed his thumb on the label and noticed a number scribbled in the corner, "Oh yeah!" Seamus's face lit up. He quickly stood up and walked over to the other side of the bar.

"I guess I am a kind of a dummy," Harry remarked as he shifted his icepack over to one side of his nose.

"Uh huh," Seamus replied, returning to his seat with a telephone in his hand.

"The last thing in the world I should do is chase her," Harry continued, "Leave her alone for a week or ten days."

"Uh huh," Seamus answered robotically as he concentrated on dialing the number on the bottle.

"She's used to me," he realized glumly, "I can't get to sleep until I get home. I'll have fun for a couple of nights. Play a little poker with some of the boys on the team."

"Lavender?" Seamus said into the phone.

Harry abruptly raised his head. He looked around before realizing that Seamus was talking on the phone. "Oh, thought one of your girlfriends were hanging about over here," he explained.

"Hi there, Lavender," Seamus held the handset on his shoulders as he took another drink, "Uh huh, yes, and I'm kissing you back!" he teased, smacking his lips together making smooching sounds.

Harry rolled his eyes as he listened to their conversation.

"Dean?" Seamus frowned, "This is no Dean, this is Seamus! Yes, that's right," he replied; now smirking, "Did you miss your Seamus honey?" he asked playfully. He held the phone away from his head as he leaned towards Harry whispering, "She's a wonderful girl. Society girl now, real class!" He placed the phone next to his ear again, "How about tomorrow night? I've got a friend. How about Susan?" Seamus suggested. He leaned over to Harry once again, "You'll like Susan," he assured him.

"Me?" Harry asked, confused, "Susan?"

"Oh, he's a wonderful chap! You must remember him from Hogwarts! It's Harry Potter!" Seamus said on the phone. He waited for a few seconds before Susan apparently gets on the line.

"Oh Susan, say, I've got a nice little dinner partner for you tomorrow night," Seamus told her, "but he kind of needs some cheering up, you know what I mean? Okay then," he handed the phone over to Harry, "She wants to talk to you."

Harry looked at him suspiciously before taking the handset, "Hello?" A strange expression appeared on his face as he looked over at Seamus. He covered the mouthpiece with his hand, "She's kissing at me."

"Kiss back at her," Seamus egged on like it's the most normal thing in the world.

Harry hesitated for a moment, "But I hardly know her."

"It's all for a laugh," he assured him, "She's a great girl."

Harry reluctantly obliged, awkwardly finding himself making the same kissing noises as the voice on the other line, "It feels kind of silly," he said to Seamus. "Huh?" Harry turning his attention back to the phone, "Well how do you know you're crazy about me?" His expression changed as he listened, now relaxed and confident, "Oh, well, it's just an ordinary voice," he said modestly with a slight chuckle, "I use to sing a little."

Seamus laughed as he took the handset away from him, "Didn't I tell you? He's a great fellow. Eight o'clock?" He leaned over to Harry, "Where did you want to meet?"

Harry thought for a moment, "The Stork Club," he answered.

"Maybe this will give Hermione something to think about when she came into the club with Ron," Harry thought grimly.

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

That night, Harry arrived at the Stork Club, dressed in proper bow and tie. A formal, classy dance club, the Stock Club was modeled after the one in New York and is located in the center of Diagon Alley. It has always been a favorite of Hermione's.

"Mr. Seamus Finnegan's party," Harry told the host in the lobby.

"Oh yes, they're expecting you," the host replied from behind the podium, "Follow me please,"

Harry felt a pleasurable sense of anticipation as he walked through the crowded club. The host led him through the double French doors and past a long bar. As they walked, music from the main room grew louder and louder. The establishment was decorated in 1940's American style and included a live swing band located in front of the room which they passed just as they came in through from the arched doorway. A fine, mahogany dance floor occupied the center of the room, surrounded by small round tables, covered in fine, bright white linen. Harry had to slide and dodge away from all the dancing couples in order to cut across the floor. He finally spotted Seamus towards the back, sitting with two other girls.

"Harry my boy!" Seamus waved out to him, "Over here!"

He recognized Lavender immediately, sitting right next to Seamus. She looked at him admiringly and gave a polite smile.

"The one and only Harry Potter!" Seamus announced to the girl sitting on the other side of him, "In the flesh!"

Then, within touching distance of the table, it was only his hastily summoned will power that kept him from turning and fleeing.

"Well what's been keeping you?" Susan called out as she took a bite out of her celery. She looked as if she might have stepped straight out of a burlesque show. Though she still wore her hair in a long plait down her back, she had changed since her days at Hogwarts. From makeup to clothes, she was Broadway at its most blatant. His face froze to hide his disappointment as he stood there by the table.

"She's been waiting for you for over an hour!" Seamus said.

"Oh, I've been a little busy over at practice," Harry replied agitatedly. He reluctantly sat himself by the empty chair next to Susan.

"Have a drink Harry!" Seamus suggested excitedly. His exuberance had been indubitably augmented by too many before-dinner cocktails.

"Waiter!" he turned his head back and called to the server just as he was rushing by, "An old fashioned for my boy here!" Lavender playfully stuffed a piece of celery in his mouth.

A haughty, but attractive raven haired girl sitting at the next table, so closely placed that it seemed a part of their own, glanced contemptuously at Susan, then let her gaze rest coldly on Harry before turning back to her companion.

Harry, feeling quite awkward, looked around desperately, "Um, couldn't-umm- isn't it a little crowded in here?" he asked, trying to avoid Susan's gaze, "Shouldn't we go someplace where-quieter, maybe a little darker?"

"No dear," Susan replied with a giggle, "We'll go to one of those dark, romantic places later. We're eating first. Haven't you ever been here?"

"Oh yes, I've been here often," he said, still looking around, "That's why I wanted to go someplace where it was darker."

Miserable eons passed over Harry's head. Then, looking up, his throat went dry, his forehead dampened with perspiration, he caught something in the corner of his eye. Hermione, cool, poised and never lovelier, and Ron, groomed and distinguished just sat down at a secluded table a few feet away. Harry's eyes grew wide with fury as he concealed his face conspicuously with a menu. He observed a clumsy Ron trying to hold Hermione's hand on the table, accidentally knocking and spilling the wine glass.

Harry placed the menu down and looked back at his own table. "It's awfully hot in here. I know a place that's very cool," he declared.

"Don't rush it. We're stuck with the cover charge anyways," Seamus leaned over Susan to Harry, "I tell you, a couple of more hours of this," he gave a sly wink as he gestured over towards Lavender, laughing and sipping a glass of wine.

"I beg your pardon," the waiter grabbed their attention as he started serving their plates of pheasant.

"Oh, finally! I'm starved!" Susan exclaimed, "I could eat a horse!"

Harry merely sat there uncomfortably, defeated, taking big gulps from the drink the waiter just set down in front of him.

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Meanwhile, Ron and Hermione were at their table, sitting in silence. Ron was nervously tapping his fingers on the table, trying to come up with something clever to say. Being on his first date with Hermione, he felt a bit intimidated. Hermione felt uncomfortable as well. She looked away and to her surprise, spotted Harry's party at the table a few feet away.

"Harry's here," Hermione made her voice sounded nonchalant, though she kept rubbing her knuckles anxiously together.

Ron looked over at the direction Hermione was referring to. "Yes, he is," he said callously, scooting his chair a bit closer to her.

"Who's he with, I wonder," Hermione rested her chin against her arm, speaking in a forced, casual manner.

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

"So you want to wrestle do you?" Susan said to the pheasant as she tried to carve a piece from the plate in frustration.

Harry looked away from his date disgustingly, embarrassed. He turned his attention towards Hermione's table and noticed her glance in his direction, pausing with a barely perceptible start of surprise. She quickly looked down as Harry made eye contact with her.

Harry easily recognized Hermione's jealousy and decided to use it to his advantage. He leaned toward the attractive girl, whose chair almost touched his. She was staring at Hermione, and Harry moved his lips as though he was speaking to her in a loving, affectionate manner.

"She's rather pretty isn't she?" Hermione remarked, upon seeing this display, "Do you know her Ron?"

"No, I don't," he replied.

Harry knew that his plan was working. He reenacted the scene again, this time adding a sly smirk.

Hermione used most of her will power to suppress her anger. She turned to Ron, holding her chin up and forcing a large, but awkward smile, "I want to dance."

"Oh fine," Ron replied, getting up swiftly. They made their way over to the edge of the wooden floor. Hermione wrapped her arms so obviously close around Ron so they could be seen. She glared back over to Harry's direction as he is again keeping up with his charade.

Ron felt quite uneasy as Hermione's grip grew tighter and tighter while he gracelessly rocked her back and forth on the dance floor.

Harry leaned in and whispered silently again. However, his eyes were so caught up in Hermione's movements that he failed to realize that the woman had turned and was now watching him disdainfully. She nudged her date. The two of them stared strangely at Harry.

Harry finally realized the couple staring at him. He drew back sheepishly, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. He kept his head straight ahead, frozen in pokerfaced expression.

"Do you want to dance dear?" the man asked his date, still keeping his eye on Harry. The attractive woman nodded and they both left their seats. Walking pass Harry from behind, the man looked down at him, "You're looking for trouble," he said derisively as he walked away.

By this time, the entire dinner party was now completely engrossed with the food on their plates. Harry made no effort to listen to Susan's complaint about sauce on the pheasant. He quickly ordered another drink, gulping it down hoping it would ease the duration of his evening.

The only coherent though Harry had was that he had to do something. He didn't care what. He passed a frantic hand across his face, and under its pressure, his recently injured nose throbbed painfully. He winced inadvertently, but it gave him what again he believed to be an inspiration. His nose had been bleeding a little bit off and on all day. If he pressed on it really hard—

It worked. Holding the folds of his handkerchief against it, he rose so suddenly that he barely escaped upsetting the table.

"My nose started to bleed again," he announced, and only the muffling thickness of the handkerchief kept jubilance out of his voice, "I have to go hom-"

"Oh that's alright. I can stop a nose bleed!" Susan, taking Harry completely by surprise, quickly pulled him down onto the chair and forced his head down onto the set of another vacant chair before he knew what was happening. Holding him there, she shrieked for ice and a cold knife. With the ice on the back of his neck, and the cold knife under his nose, she addressed the crowd that had collected around the table.

"Step back and give him some air!" she ordered brassily.

The effect made the people crowd closer. Foremost in the throng was Hermione. Her face, that had first been apprehensive and concerned, became disdainfully remote again, as she took in his companions. Ron leaned towards her and murmured something. Without a backward glance, they turned and went back to their own table.

"Hand me another cold knife, somebody!" Susan shrieked in her strident voice.

Harry closed his eyes, and shook his head numbly. "Just cut my throat with it," he muttered bitterly.

Hope you enjoyed. Remember to Review!


	8. Evening Misadventures

A/N: Sorry it took so long to update. With so many things to do, it's hard to find the time. But I will update sooner next time. Please Read and Review! Keep in mind, this is NOT a R/Hr.

Chapter Eight: Evening Misadventure

Ron and Hermione felt it best to leave the club to avoid anymore of Harry's antics. Stepping out into muggle London, the couple had just gotten into a taxi.

"If you're upset, I'll be glad to take you home," Ron looked at his date nervously, noticing the menacing expression on her face.

"Upset? Why?" Hermione asked bitterly without looking at him, "Because I saw Harry with Florence Nightingale? I don't care who holds a knife to him," she added, enunciating very clearly, "I certainly wish I had the chance."

"Well, uh," Ron said timidly, now assured of his solicitous fears that she was upset, "Is there someplace you would like to go?"

"Yes, I feel like staying up all night tonight," Hermione's face softened, "I know, lets go to the fair," she suggested cheerfully.

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

On impulse, Hermione suggested they go on the Parachute Drop machine whose scarlet grill-work tower, with its brilliantly lighted umbrella-shaped scaffolding, was visible from every part of the Fair.

Ron looked up anxiously at the ride, intimidated, having never been on such a muggle contraption before. The skeleton chair, just wide enough for two people, was hauled by wires to the top of the tower. Then, when it reached the scaffolding, it was supposed to be electrically released into a drop that sent the parachute over the top billowing out in great folds, easing the riders into a landing that was no more than a bump when they reached the bottom.

He took a deep breath as he sat down next to Hermione. After the attendant strapped the belt tightly over their lap, he gave the signal to the operator. Before he knew it, Ron felt himself ascend higher and higher into the sky.

Ron sat there, rigid, tried to look everyone but down. It was one thing flying around on a broom, but to have absolutely no control and be at the mercy of some mechanical wires was completely nerve wrecking. As they sway back and forth in the air, Hermione lets out a joyful glee, "It's so wonderful and carefree!"

They stop swaying. Ron closed his eyes, preparing for the drop. There was a loud pop as their seats shook. He opened his eyes and realized that they were still at the top. Nothing was moving.

Hermione had no sooner closed her eyes against the plunging descent before she reopened them in terrified knowledge of something wrong. The excited cries of the spectators below were evidence enough that the machinery jammed.

"We're stuck," Ron observed, looking up at the wires.

Hermione impatiently started moving about, frustrated by the constraints of the belt lap and rocking the ride in the process "Well why don't they do something about it?" she said impatiently.

Now now, keep calm Mione, "Ron comforted her by holding her arm, preventing her to rock the seat any longer, "Don't be frightened, it's much better to stay where we are."

It was closer to half an hour before they were released. And during that time a sudden shower came up and the rain pelted mercilessly into their faces. Ron had insisted adamantly on whipped off his jacket and placed it protectively over Hermione's shoulders, at the same time, wrapping his top coat about her knees, so that only her hat and a few tendrils of her hair were wet.

"You're soaked through," Hermione said sympathetically.

"Its nothing," Ron assured her gallantly with a smile.

As the storm abated, he started to sneeze violently.

"You're catching a cold," she observed.

"It's only a little sniffle," he remarked as he sneeze again.

"You know what Harry does if he sneezes twice in one evening?" Hermione remembered grimly, "He goes to bed with four hot water bottles a quart of firewhiskey, and a red woolen cap over his head. You ought to see him in bed with his red woolen cap. The moment we get down, we're going to your flat to get you some dry clothes," she said decidedly.

They were released almost immediately then, but in spite of Ron's insistence that he was all right, his voice left no doubt that the cold was well on its way. As quickly as they could, they made their way back to Ron's flat where with a flick of her wand, Hermione cast a drying spell on him.

"Would you excuse while I get into something more comfortable?" Ron said as he walked into the bedroom.

Hermione responded with an odd look. After casting a drying spell on herself, she went over by the fireplace to warm up while she waited. A few minutes later, Ron came out of his bedroom faultlessly groomed in white tie and tails, as though he were going to the opera.

Hermione chuckled in relief as she examined him, "Is that your idea of something more comfortable?"

"Well, I only have one dinner coat," he replied.

Hermione walked over to him by the doorway, "Don't tell me you expect to go out again in your condition," she protested.

"This hasn't been much of an evening for you," Ron told her regretfully.

"Don't you ever think about yourself?" Hermione asked, touched at his consideration. "What you need, young man is a little medical attention," she said firmly, eyeing a bottle of firewhiskey on a table across the room.

"Oh, I feel fine Mione, really!" he insisted.

Despite Ron's protest, Hermione headed over to the table, grabbed the bottle and a glass, and proceeded to pour him a stiff drink. "Now, you sit over there," she instructed, pointing to the comfortable couch by the fireplace.

"IS that ALL for me?" Ron observed the glass full of firewhiskey.

"Yes," she answered, handing it to him, "Now, all in one big gulp."

He sat down, looking at the glass uncertainly, "Oh I don't drink liquor," Ron said, "I just keep it for Harry, and friends."

"You mean you never drink liquor at all?"

"I haven't anything against other people drinking it," he explained, "But I just never seemed to get around to breaking training, from my Quidditch days, you know."

"But this isn't alcohol, Ron, its medicine," Hermione corrected him.

"If you think I ought to take it----"

"Yes I do," she insisted, "One big gulp now."

Hermione observed as Ron dutifully downed the entire fiery contents of the glass as though it had been so much water.

"Well, don't you feel it? Doesn't it burn you or anything?" she asked.

"No," he said casually, "I've tried this before and it's very interesting. I don't mind the taste of it. Only thing is, my metabolism must be very high, cos I'm sorry to say, I'm not one of those strong, silent men, who could hold their liquor."

"Well, I don't know anyone who could hold it as well," she said as she poured another drink of an equal size to the first, "I don't think one is going to do you any good."

"I think another one would be mistake," Ron said sagely.

"But its just medicine," Hermione rebutted, "It kills the germs," she handed the glass back to him, "All in one gulp now."

Ron raised the glass, "All in good health," he cheered before downing the drink.

"What a constitution," she exclaimed, witnessing Ron's drinking abilities in astonishment.

There was no intermediary stage to what happened after he had obediently finished the second draught. He took a deep breath as a goofy expression surfaced on his face.

"Uh oh," Hermione said, "Maybe that second one WAS too much."

He hiccupped, "Miss Hermione," he slurred his speech, "I have long had a deep affection for you. But I would not like to do anything under the stimulus of alcohol, which might embarrass you. My only fear is that I may not---act like a gentleman."

Ron stood up, as jerkily as though he were a puppet on a string. His entire body had gone as rigid as though he were holding it together by an effort of will. Except for a slight swaying, he made his way to the couch across from her, his clean-cut scrubbed look not deserting him even now.

It was so obvious that he meant what he had said. That he had restrained his feelings for a long time and that, in spite of the stilted words he had used, he was deeply in love with her. And yet, his only concern was that she should be neither affronted nor disturbed.

Hermione lets out a small laugh, "Well, I always say that a man's true character comes out when he's had one drink too many," she told him, "Do you want to know the basic difference between you and Harry? You give him one too many and he tilts forward at you. And you Ron, you lean backwards."

Ron swayed his head from side to side struggling to keep it up, "Thank you."

"I'll tell you something else," she confessed, "All evening I've been waiting for just one little suspicious move from you. There isn't one man in a thousand who wouldn't take out a girl in my position and not try something, no matter how faint it would be, it would still something. And look how wonderful you're acting."

"Thank you," he said, now trying to use the palm of his hand for support.

"Very first time I went out with Harry," she recalled with a sigh, "He ruined a brand new dress robe that I had, he was just awful. Didn't change the whole first year we were married. I used to think maybe it was the things he ate. I tried changing his diet around and everything."

"Thank you," Ron repeated monotonously, unsuccessfully keeping his eyelids open.

"I've had a wonderful evening Ron," Hermione smiled, getting up, "I'm going to leave you now. You cover up warm in bed and get a good night's sleep. You'll feel much better in the morning."

Ron stood up mechanically and gazed into her eyes, "I intend on taking you home Mione."

"Oh absolutely not Ron," Hermione said.

"Thank you," he replied with a bow.

"Good night Ron," she turned away and made her way over to the door.

"Good night Mione," Ron followed to see her out.

Hermione abruptly turned back around, "You're probably dying to kiss me and haven't got the nerve."

"That's true," he admitted sheepishly.

"You may," she turned her cheek.

Glowing, Ron leaned down toward her, then drew back, "I mustn't, I have a cold," he mentioned ruefully.

"That's very considerate," she said lifting her face up again. Gently, he touched his lips to her cheek. It was not a kiss that made her heart change its beat, but it was sweet, and oddly comforting.

"Thank you," he said.

"That's another basic difference between you and Harry," Hermione remarked bitterly as she strolled towards the door, leaving him behind, "Colds never stopped him. He had the measles once. How I didn't get the measles, I'll never know!" She stepped out of the door and turned to Ron one last time in a much softer tone, "Good night Ron."


	9. Meet the Parents

A/N: I know it's been a while since I updated and I said I was going to do it sooner, but I didn't. But since only like one person reviewed (thank you by the way), I didn't make it much my main priority. I hope you guys will keep in mind that it is H/HR. I never said their journey would be easy! If you're looking for fluff, you're reading in the wrong place. Thanks a lot for still reading! Please Review!

Chapter Nine: Meet the Parents

After yet another night at the Leaky Cauldron, Harry, whom routinely followed Hermione whenever she left the building, was now sitting in the taxicab having breakfast with the driver whom he had hired to chauffer him during these escapades.

"Here we go again!" the driver exclaimed as he spotted Hermione leaving their flat. He quickly started the car and took off. "I hope she's not going to visit her mother again."

"I don't think so," Harry said.

"Me wife don't like me to do this," the driver complained, shaking his head, "This is like driving private. I don't get any freedom."

"You're getting paid, aren't you?" Harry rebutted, without taking his eyes off her.

"You owe me some more money," the driver reminded him.

"I gave you twenty pounds the day before yesterday," Harry said, now seeing Hermione get into a cab.

"You used that up two days ago," he told him.

"I'll pay you later!" Harry assured him, "Don't lose her."

"How did you become a private detective anyway?" the driver asked.

"My whole family are private detectives," he answered casually.

"This must be costing her husband loads of money," the driver said, "And you want to know my opinion?"

"What?"

"You're not going to catch her at anything. She's pretty foxy," he observed.

"Oh I don't know," Harry replied.

"You know what we ought to do this afternoon?" the driver suggested, "We ought to go to a show. This bird isn't going to do anything this afternoon."

"In the afternoon is when you catch them," Harry said snidely.

"No kidding?" the driver pondered for a moment, "That's funny; I wonder where does my wife go every afternoon?"

They followed Hermione's cab until she reached the Leaky Cauldron.

Harry perked up, "Hey look! She's going to go visit me!" They watched from across the street as she stepped out of the car and walked into the building. He waited until the coast is clear before heading quickly across the street before he could lose her.

As it turned out, Hermione did not stop at the Leaky Cauldron, but headed straight for Diagon Alley. Harry trailed from far behind as he saw her make her way into the Quidditch Stadium.

He picked up the pace and raced into the lobby.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter," Penelope greeted.

"Good morning," Harry said hastily as he dashed towards his own office.

"There's someone waiting for you in the office," she called out.

Harry turned to her with a satisfied, knowing grin, "That's perfectly alright!" He entered the room, expecting to see Hermione when a male voice startled him.

"Well, Mr. Potter! It's about time!"

Harry abruptly turned to the couch and found a short, little bald clumsy looking man looking at him.

"Oh," Harry replied with a slight, but obvious disappointment in his voice, "How do you do, Mr.—uh—umm—"

"You've even forgotten my name," the man said resentfully, "My name is Conway, I'm a representative for the International Quidditch Association. The board needs your signature on those contract agreements we sent you weeks ago! No work can be done without them."

"Oh yes of course, Mr. Conway," Harry chuckled nervously, completely unprepared for this moment, "Why don't you sit down," he suggested.

Conway gave him an odd look as Harry realized embarrassingly that he was already sitting. The man rose up from his seat, his face scrunched up in agitation, "I made up my mind I was going to see you if it takes me all week and it has taking me all week! Where have you been?"

Harry stepped back towards the door, "Now just relax, Mr. Conner. If you'll lie down there for a minute, I'll retrieve that paperwork."

"My name is Conway!" the man corrected him, "I've been sleeping here so much I can't sleep at home!"

Harry swiftly walked out of the room and closed the door behind him. "Where did my wife go?" he asked Penelope.

"She's in Mr. Weasley's office," Penelope answered, "His parents' surprised him."

A wave of jealously consumed him as he slowly made his way towards Ron's office.

"But what about Mr. Conway?" she asked.

Harry merely gestured a short wave of dismissal. Composing himself, he casually walked into the office.

"Hello Ron," he greeted him cheerfully. As all eyes turned to him, he plastered an expression of surprise on his face, "Oh, excuse me." He swiftly made his way over to Ron, who was sitting on his desk. "About poor old Conway," Harry told him in a business like manner, "The team and I had discussed some matters and you have to tell him that unless some demands are met, I'm refusing to sign." He glanced over at Hermione, who now seems to be fidgeting in her seat, between Ron's parents.

"Why hello Harry!" Mrs. Weasley greeted him warmly.

"Harry my boy!" Mr. Weasley said, offering his hand.

"Harry, you remember my parents of course," Ron said, trying to hide the awkwardness in his voice.

Harry received Mr. Weasley's hand, "Why yes of course, how do you do sir. It's a pleasure to see you."

"The pleasure's all mine," Mr. Weasley replied graciously.

"Ronald's written and written all about you to us. You'll always be one of the family," Mrs. Weasley added, "Hermione, you remember Harry don't you? It's been years since Hogwarts!"

Harry realized now that Ron had never told his parents about his marriage to Hermione. He knew what a fuss they would have made back when they were so young.

"We met sometime ago," Hermione replied through her teeth, trying as hard as she could to suppress her agitated state.

"Yes, we know one another very well," Harry mentioned slyly with a smirk.

"Oh of course, you've probably seen a great deal of her," Mrs. Weasley commented, quite oblivious to the meaning of that remark.

"Yes, I have, a great deal," Harry stressed, "Oh, um, I hope I'm not interrupting anything?"

"Sit right down boy," Mr. Weasley instructed cheerfully, "We'll all get reacquainted at once."

Hermione flinched slightly at the suggestion. She knew he was up to something.

Mr. Weasley continued, "We haven't seen dear Hermione here since graduation, and we find out now that she and Ron have been quite sweet on each other."

"Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley interrupted, embarrassed by her husband's openness on the subject.

"Harry probably knows it better than we do, don't you Harry?" Mr. Weasley asked, ignoring her remark.

"Oh yes yes, of course," Harry replied nonchalantly, "If it hadn't been for me, they never even would have gotten together."

Hermione eyes grew wider as the conversation continued. Every time the Weasley's would look away, she would glare at Harry with a horrible, seemingly intense loathing.

"That's so romantic," Mrs. Weasley sighed, "You know what I was thinking?"

"What, Mrs. Weasley?" Hermione asked with a forced smile across her face.

"If two people wanted to go on a honeymoon, they could just fly out to the peaceful English midlands, stop right by the Burrow, and spend the time over by that lovely lake," she said.

"Flying can be a very romantic activity for two people," Mr. Weasley added.

"That wouldn't be very good for Mione," Harry interjected as he stepped in front of Ron, "You remember how sick you were the first time I took you flying out by the Quidditch Pitch during our last year at Hogwarts?" he recalled, "She's not a very good flyer," he turned to Ron, "And I can give you some good practical advice on that too. Whenever she gets on a broom, don't let her have anything to eat, even if she wants to. If she still feels queasy afterwards, just put her to bed and put a hot water bottle on her stomach and hold it there no matter how much she hollers. That settles her stomach," he explained as if he were reading dog-training instructions.

Hermione laughed nervously, "He considers himself quite a medical authority." Trying to change the subject she turned to Mrs. Weasley with great interest, "And how do you like staying in London? I know you've been here many times before but you never really spend anytime here."

"Oh fine," Mrs. Weasley answered, "It's so big though, with everyone, muggles and wizards rushing around."

"I'm afraid that's rather deceiving, we're really one big happy family here," Harry told her happily, "Of course there are one thousand and one little things that go on underneath the surface and –oh that reminds me," he looked over at Hermione, "What about my laundry? I haven't any more shorts!"

Hermione flinched as she averted her eyes to the floor, completely embarrassed as the two parents focused their attention to her.

"Uh...Hermione kind of took care of his things around the house," Ron quickly explained.

"Little household things," Hermione added uneasily.

"And one of the best housekeepers you ever saw," Harry boasted with a hearty chuckle, "I suppose you're wondering about us. Well it's quite simple," he explained offhandedly, "I've known Hermione for a long time and wanted to marry her. Still do as a matter of fact, but well," he looked down glumly, "fortunes of war."

"Oh," Mrs. Weasley uttered, her cheery disposition now gone, "I see."

"And let me tell you something," Harry continued in a more serious tone, "I know of no finer compliment that I can pay to any girl than to tell you this," he stood up, "When a man has been sitting across the breakfast table from the same woman for three solid years and still wants to marry her, well, she's quite a girl."

Hermione slouched down even further as she felt the uncomfortable gaze from Ron's parents. Unable to think of anything to say, she remained completely still.

Mr. Weasley stood up to break the moment of silence, "Ronald, may I see you in private please?" His face told him that he was not pleased, "Come along Molly,"

"Will you excuse us for a moment please?" Mrs. Weasley said to Hermione in a stern manner.

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Hermione waited until Ron's family was out of earshot. "Are you satisfied now?" she asked Harry accusingly, "Are you satisfied to take two fine people like that whose whole lives are wrapped up around their children and make them unhappy?"

"What about me being unhappy?" Harry retorted.

Her nostrils flared, "All you ever think about is yourself! I can't see how you could have been associated with Ron for soon long and not gotten some of his fine qualities."

"What's fine about him?" he asked bitterly.

"Well, he's kind, and simple and gentle," Hermione told him in a softer tone of voice.

"Oh, you're in one of your romantic moods again," Harry said mockingly, "That's been the trouble since the beginning! And since when have you been so crazy about the gentle act?" he asked, staring straight into her eyes, "Shall I recall to you how I got this?" he pointed to the smaller scar on the side of his forehead, "A bed lamp!"

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Meanwhile, Mr. Weasley led them into the lavatory in Ron's office. The three of them are now standing inside, crowded as Ron closed the door after him.

Ron's father wasted no time, "What kind of girl are you taking up with now? I always thought Hermione was such a sweet child, but now---"

"Father, I know it's sounded very confusing—"Ron started to say.

"I wasn't confused at all! Sending him shorts? His laundry?" Mrs. Weasley recalled.

"Three years breakfast!" Mr. Weasley added.

"Well, they have a very peculiar relationship," he told them.

"Are they married?" Mr. Weasley asked suspiciously.

"Not exactly," Ron replied.

"Not exactly?" his mother repeated with an eyebrow raised.

"Now please," he pleaded desperately, "You mustn't get the wrong idea about Hermione. When you get to know her now, you'll find that she has what every man wants in a wife. I've known her a long time and the goodness in her will never change." He drew in a breath and waited. Noticing his parents' expressions soften, he continued, "Now mother, I'm going to bring Hermione up to the Burrow to visit. We can all spend a relaxing weekend over by the lake."

"Maybe we're being too hasty Arthur," Mrs. Weasley sighed, "We'll make the reservations for the children for next weekend."

"I don't want to seem too harsh," Mr. Weasley agreed, "Alright Ron; we'll try and forget all this."

Thanks for reading! The more reviews, the faster I get this out!


	10. A Weekend By the Lake

A/N: Summer is finally here so I'll be able to update more often. I know some of you are upset at how long it's taking for Harry and Hermione to get together, but I'm sure most of you have realized that I enjoy the journey in a romance. But you can read for yourself that things are finally beginning to turn around in favor of H/Hr.

Please, also keep in mind that the characters are not in character to the traditional Harry Potter characters. I know that Harry would never be such an ass and Hermione wouldn't be that bitchy, but if it weren't for these intense personality traits, we would not have a story. Please Review!

Chapter Ten: A Weekend by the Lake

Hermione and Ron had stopped by the Burrow earlier but had found it empty. A note was left for them by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley explaining they were already out at the lake and they should go and check in at the lodge.

"How do you do?" the man at the check-in desk greeted them.

"How do you do," Ron replied as he signed the guest book.

The man examined Ron's signature, "Oh, Mr. Weasley, I have a message for you from your parents," he informed him, "They're on our excursion trip on the lake. They won't be back until later tonight.

"I see, thank you." Ron replied as he passed the pen to Hermione, "Um, what floor are we on?"

"Your rooms are not in the lodge," the man told them.

Ron looked up surprised, "I thought they were."

"They were changed to one of the cabins."

"That's funny," he replied, pondering what had happened.

"I'm sure you'll find that very satisfactory," the man winked, "There's more privacy, and a great deal of people prefer that."

Ron blushed, "Well how far is it from here?"

"It's only half a mile. There's a carriage outside waiting."

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

"Hmmmm...clean fresh air!" Hermione exclaimed in elation as she and Ron made their way to the lodge by the lake, "I love the smell of the air by the lake. Reminds me of Hogwarts."

The carriage pulled up by the row of cabins just on top of the hill. Hermione excitedly stepped out and started taking in the view.

Ron handed the driver a sickle, "There you are."

"Thanks, governor," the driver said, "Remember, we're in an anti-apparating zone, so just wave your wand out here and the carriage will arrive within a few minutes to take you to the lodge."

"That will be fine," Ron replied.

"The carriage service will be discontinued after 10:00 at night. We try to make this a real retreat," he added before driving off.

"Well, I say we should get settled before lunch," Ron suggested, reaching for one of the bags. He looked over at Hermione whose expression had turn into an intense stare that was directed behind him. He turned around curiously. Witnessing the sight before him, his mouth dropped open. "Why, it's Harry," he uttered.

Harry was standing by the cabin across from theirs. His body was completely covered in dirt. The robe he was wearing had been torn. His tongue was hanging out slightly as beads of sweat trickled down his face. He had been staring at them with a frozen, pathetic expression.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked, glaring at him.

In response, Harry leaned forward and fell flat on his face. Hermione's expression changed into one of concern as she and Ron dashed over to him and crouched down. She grabbed Harry, now unconscious, on the shoulder and turned him over.

"Oh! He's fainted," Hermione cried, distressed.

"What happened to him?" Ron asked.

She studied Harry's face as she ran her fingers through his hair.

"He's terribly ill!" she said anxiously.

Ron reached for Harry's jugular, "He's got quite an even pulse."

"Well, don't let him just lie here!" Hermione, almost to the point of hysterics, started pulling up on Harry's arm, "Help me carry him inside!"

Ron grabbed a hold on Harry's legs. They picked him up, as if he was a piece of furniture and carried him into their cabin. Upon entering the bedroom, they carefully swung him onto the bed.

"He doesn't seem to be breathing, Ron," Hermione observed fretfully.

"Now don't worry Mione, control yourself," he replied calmly, unclasping Harry's robe.

"His body temperature is boiling! He's exhausted!" Hermione brushed Harry's forehead gently.

Ron stuffed a pillow underneath Harry's head, "Well, he's breathing fine now."

"Maybe he ought to have a little firewhiskey," she suggested.

Ron shook his head, "I'm afraid not. I think that's what did it."

"Yes, I can see he's been at it all week," Hermione observed sorrowfully.

"I think a few hours sleep will bring him around," he told her.

"Well, we better get these sweaty clothes off of him then," Hermione said as she started untying Harry's shoelaces.

Ron pulled his friend's torso upright from the bed to remove the tattered robe. Harry's body remained limp with no effort of support. Ron held on to his shoulder as he unbuttoned the collar.

To Ron's surprise, Harry began muttering, stretching out each syllable, "We will go away on the first two weeks of summer...The first two weeks of summer...summer,"

Hermione stopped abruptly from what she was doing to listen.

"What's he saying?" Ron asked.

"We were supposed to come here on the first two weeks of summer," Hermione explained.

"You'll be crazy about it Mione...Mione," Harry continued slurring.

An astronomical wave of guilt swept through her as she keenly observed the state in which her husband was in, "He must have been here this whole week torturing himself. He shouldn't have come here." Hermione, now on the verge of tears, turned back to work on his shoes.

"Sailing...fishing...lots of fun...have lots..." Harry rambled on.

"Lets get him out of these clothes," she said frustrated, trying to keep her mind away.

Ron tugged on Harry's sleeves.

"Look out! Look out!" Harry called out, "Be careful. You'll fall."

Ron looked at Hermione confusingly.

She gave a weak smile, "He thinks we're sailing." Finally, Hermione was able to pull off one of Harry's shoes.

"You're very graceful Mione," Harry uttered with his eyes closed, "But don't go so fast the next time, I don't want you to hurt yourself."

Ron finally managed to take Harry's shirt off and lay him back down onto the bed. "Look out! Look out for that boat!" Harry exclaimed just before his head hits the pillow.

"Hermione, you better go back to the lodge now for some help and book another cabin," Ron instructed, "I have to undress him anyways."

Hermione reluctantly left Harry's side and made her way to the door, "I'll be back really soon," she called back into the room.

"The first two weeks of summer...summer," she heard Harry mumbled as she left the cabin.

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

"Maybe you should take a little walk around the lake," Ron suggested, "You'll feel better."

Hermione and Ron were sitting in the living room of their cabin. Hermione had been spending almost every moment over at Harry's cabin taking care of him. Although quite concern with his friend's well being, Ron could not help but feel a bit of jealousy and disappointment.

"He'll get delirious again and want water," Hermione pointed out.

"Oh, he's sleeping like a baby," Ron pleaded, "There's nothing we can do for him now."

She looked at him anxiously as if she didn't hear a word he had said, "I think I'll look once more," she exclaimed as she got up from the couch.

Ron, defeated, followed her into Harry's cabin just across from theirs.

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Meanwhile, Harry had been flipping through pages of Quidditch Through The Ages in bed. Upon hearing footsteps, he quickly threw his book under the covers, leaned back and closed his eyes just as Hermione and Ron tiptoed into his room. They leaned from opposite sides of the bed to inspect him.

"He's asleep," Hermione whispered.

"Arrgheegarrrummm," Harry mumbled softly.

"He's trying to say something," she observed.

"Theeeefirsttwoweekkkkssssofsummereerrrummg," Harry continued.

Ron looked over at Hermione, "What's he saying?"

"Well he's still at the first two weeks of summer," she replied. Just then, Harry's eyes began to open slightly.

Hermione beamed at him, "Hello Harry," she said.

Harry's eyes moved from Hermione to Ron.

"Hi there, mate," Ron greeted with a small smile.

"Hello Mione," Harry replied weakly.

Ron's face fell, "My, he is in bad shape."

"Don't you remember me? Try and think Harry!" Hermione patted him gently on the arm, "Its Hermione, Mione!"

Harry's expression remained still.

"This is Ron," Ron pointed to himself, "Your old school chum."

Harry looked back and forth from one another. His eyes lingered back onto Ron, "I'll never forget you in that blue dress."

"That's the dress I wore the very first time I went out with him," Hermione explained in a cheerful tone, "The one I told you about, the one he tore? He liked me in that," she smiled at the wisp of nostalgia.

An unexplained uneasiness swept over Ron, "I think we ought to let him rest awhile," he said casually.

At this moment, Harry lets out a short gurgling sound.

"What's the matter?" Hermione, alerted, "That isn't a rattle is it?"

"Well, I don't think so," Ron leaned closer, "I would sure like to hear it again."

As if on cue, Harry made the faintly gurgling noise louder.

Ron chuckled, shaking his head, "No, he's just clearing his throat."

Hermione frowned, "He looks awful."

"He'll look better when he gets a shave," Ron assured her.

"Yes, that's what I was thinking," Hermione said. She pondered for a moment before abruptly walking out of the room leaving a perplexed Ron behind.

Thanks for reading! More soon!


	11. Tea and a Total lack of Sympathy

A/N: Thank you for the two of you that reviewed! Appreciated it very much. Not very much longer to go, maybe a chapter or two, not too sure yet. Enjoy.

Chapter Eleven: Tea and a Total lack of Sympathy

Harry opened his eyes slowly as he heard Ron followed Hermione into the bathroom. He raisedhis head slightly to overhear the sound of running water in the next room.

"Are you expecting me to shave him?" Ron asked as he watched Hermione rinse a razor blade in the sink.

"No, I can do it," Hermione answered briskly as she stirred the shaving cream in the brass cup.

"You? Why Hermione, that's only something a barber can do," he told her, "It's very difficult to shave someone else."

"I've always shaved him." Hermione turned off the faucet. With everything she needs in hand, she headed back over to Harry's bedside.

After spreading a sheet around Harry's neck, Hermione scooped a small amount of cream on the brush and methodically applied it on his chin and around his mouth. Ron looked on curiously.

"That barber's just ruined his skin," Hermione observed as she rubbed the cream into Harry's face.

"More...moreIwannashinnneee," Harry mumbled incoherently.

"He thinks he's in a barbershop," she explained to Ron casually. Holding Harry's head to one side, Hermione gently scraped the stubble with the razor.

Out of nowhere, Harry reached out his hand towards Ron. Hermione was too concentrated on the razor to notice.

"Look," Ron pointed to Harry's hand, "He's lifting his hand."

Hermione looked over quickly before resuming her task, "He thinks he wants a manicure," she told him like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Wha-umm-What should I do?" he asked.

"Well, maybe we better humor him," she instructed, "Hold it."

Ron hesitated before grabbing onto Harry's hand. "You think we're doing the right thing?" he asked, feeling awkward by the minute.

"Yes, we mustn't do anything to shock him," Hermione said sagely.

Ron continued to observe Hermione's meticulousness as she scraped under Harry's nose.

"He thinks I'm a manicurist, doesn't he?" he chuckled at the thought.

"Uh huh"

Suddenly, Ron felt a slight pressure on his hand. He stared at Harry, whose eyes remained closed, "He's squeezing my hand!"

"In a few minutes he'll ask you for your phone number," Hermione told him with a sigh, "Can you get me his lotion from the bathroom?"

Ron walked into the bathroom to retrieve the lotion. He stopped at the sink, taking his time to think about everything he's witnessed during the past two days.

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Satisfied with a job well done on a clean-shaven Harry, Hermione and Ron went back into their own cabin to let him rest.

A worried look was still cast on her face as she walked inside.

"Sit down, Hermione," Ron said in a serious tone of voice. She took a seat on the couch quietly, looking away. Ron stood over her head beside the couch, "You know, a woman can't control herself entirely by her head, which is probably why we love you," he sighed, "Now you and Harry have had three years together, and whether you realize it or not, there is a bond between you, and it's not easily broken."

Hermione turned to look at him with an unconvincing smile, "People get divorced." Even her own words made flinch. She avoided his gaze.

"Now it's true that I think you're better off with me," he continued, "But then, I'm prejudice. My first wish is to see you happy, and it's possible, it's more than possible, that as peculiar as Harry is, you still couldn't be happy without him."

Ron walked around the couch and sat down beside her. "I tell you what I like you to do. You take back your promise to marry me, and think about it for a few days. If you find that you can't go on without Harry, well, you know I'll wish you every happiness in the world."

Hermione looked at him with an honest beam. She squeezed his hand gently, "That's very kind of you." She was grateful to Ron for understanding.

"Don't you think we should see how he's getting along?" she asked.

"We'll only wake him up," Ron replied.

"I'll just go see if he's still asleep, I'll look through the window." Outside, Hermione tiptoed carefully over to Harry's cabin and peered through the window. Her face of genuine consideration drastically changes to a seething glare as she watched Harry gleefully helping himself to a chocolate frog.

Feeling so incredibly stupid for falling for one of Harry's sympathy routines. She quietly crept back to her cabin. From the outside, she slammed the door loud enough for Harry to hear.

Sure enough, upon hearing the noise, Harry hastily tossed the chocolate frog under the bed, got under the covers, and resumed his pathetic position in bed.

Hermione, fuming, entered Harry's bedroom. She grabbed the closest thing around her, which happened to be the teapot on the table and hurled it against the wall above the bed. Harry instinctively pulled the blanket over his head as ceramic shattered all over the place and tea dripping all around him.

She marched over to his bed. Harry gulpped, and with the most pathetic weak voice he could muster, he uttered, "I will never forget you in that blue dress."

"BLUE DRESS! YOU'VE BEEN FOUND OUT! YOU BEAST!" she screamed, "I should've known you being in here was all too convenient."

"Now look here Hermione-" Harry said as he propped up from the bed.

"Big sympathy act, coming up here and pretending you're out of it!" she cried.

"But I love you Mione!" he yelled desperately.

"Listen to me Harry, you get up and get out of here! I never want to lay eyes on you again! You're just making a nuisance out of yourself!"

Harry took the opportunity to hastily seize hold of her wrists.

"Get your hands for me!" she struggled within his grasp.

"Hermione, I don't care what you say; I know you're still in love with me!" Harry told her.

"And I know you're still crazy!" she said stubbornly.

"We belong to each other!" Harry declared, still holding onto her, "You couldn't have anything to do with Ron!"

"That's what you think!" she replied, glaring at him.

"Let me tell you something Mione," his voice passionate, "You couldn't let him lay a hand on you. I know you, not after what we've been through together!"

"He's going to lay a hand on me, and we're going to get married!" Hermione finally managed to fling Harry's grasp off of her.

Harry looked at her now in complete shock. She spun around and started to leave.

"Okay," Harry called out to her, in a defeated state, "If that's the way you feel about it, I won't stand in your way."

Hermione stopped at the door to listen.

"I've been thrown out of my own home, threatened by cops, chased around in taxicabs, and neglected my job. And only because I loved you and wanted you back again. Now I'm finished. I'm all washed up. Go ahead and marry him. I hope you'll be very happy."

A hint of sympathy almost surfaced on Hermione's face. Without a word, she left the room.

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Ron had been sitting on the couch in their cabin when Hermione entered through the door.

"Well, you've heard." Hermione said.

Ron merely nodded.

She started to pace angrily about the room, working off some of her rage, "He liked me in that blue dress robe," she muttered. Pacing over to Ron, she asked, "Ron, will you marry me?" Without even stopping to hear the answer, she continued to pace about the room shuffling her feet.

"Why, I'd be honored Mione," he said, "Do you think it's wise to make a decision in anger?"

"Even at a time like this you can still be considerate of him?" she squeaked out.

"Your happiness is my only concern," he replied.

"Oh, I'm not good enough for you Ron," Hermione said. "Why, you'd be making me the happiest man in the world," Ron remarked, "I know, why don't we go have a nice dinner and take your mind off of your troubles?"

"Yes," Hermione sighed.

The two of them walked silently together out the door. As they passed Harry's cabin, they can overhear a conversation he was having with someone at the lodge via the floo powder network.

"What's the first train I can get back to London? 10:30? Get a carriage half an hour before up here then. Thank you."


	12. For His Own Good

A/N: Wow, thanks for the reviews! As promised, I got this chapter out a little sooner through all your encouragements. Only one more chapter left. Remember, everyone is OOC in this story! Enjoy.

Chapter Twelve: For His Own Good

Hermione had been completely silent throughout the ride back from the lodge. She seemed distant and distraught. It was Harry's face Hermione was seeing whenever she looked at Ron during the dinner and it was Harry's voice she was hearing as she tried to keep her attention on what Ron was saying.

"I thought it was a very nice dinner, didn't you?" Ron tried again at making conversation.

Hermione smiled politely, "I wasn't very hungry."

Ron had been understanding kindness itself since the scene this afternoon, and she had promised to marry him any time he wanted. She had heard herself say the words, while she was still shaken with humiliated fury at her own emotional reaction to Harry's supposed illness.

"I hope he has the decency to leave tonight," she said vehemently.

"Who, Harry? He won't stay around when he's not wanted," Ron assured her, "I bet he would be gone by the time we get back."

Hermione sulked inwardly, "You know the real reason he keeps chasing me? He's still so much in love with me. He can't bare the idea of letting anybody else kiss me. He just won't believe I'm going to marry you."

"Really?" Ron gave a light chuckle, "He'll have to after we're married."

"You know, I'm worried about him." Hermione reasoned, "He may have been putting on an act today, but he'll really take to drinking from now on."

If Ron had been more astute, he would have recognized the unconscious satisfaction, a well as concern in her voice. "Oh, I don't think so," he said, "He'll probably find someone else. Harry's the type that always gets married again."

"Still, I'm so afraid he'll ruin his life on account of me," she continued, "Spoil his brilliant future. He is brilliant you know. If I could somehow disillusion him about me-make him hate me-do something. Yes if he would hate me! That would be the solution!"

The plan was born in her mind in that moment, and it seemed to her then to be utter inspiration. But she would have to work fast. It was after nine now and Harry would be gone by ten.

"Listen, listen! It would work too! Those walls are paper thin, and you can hear everything!" she exclaimed excitedly.

"Why, Mione, what are you suggesting?" Ron asked.

Urging the driver to speed up, she unfolded her idea to him.

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Silently, like conspirators, they tiptoed into the cabin.

"Goodnight, Ron," she said.

Ron leaned in and kissed Hermione on the cheek, "Goodnight Mione. It's a wonderful thing you're doing."

"He'd be on my conscience otherwise," she said emphatically.

Noiselessly, she went alone into her suite through her own entrance, while Ron, leaving her at the door, went into his. Then, taking a deep breath for courage, she stood so close to the thin wall closest towards the direction of Harry's cabin so that he could not help but hear every word she said.

"Come on in Ron," Hermione called loudly as though he were in reality at her door, instead of his own room, "It's early yet." Waiting a second, she opened the door, and closed it again, as though Ron had just come in. Then after a pause that would sound to Harry as though she and Ron were kissing long and silently, she reached for two glasses on the table and clanked them together for sound effects. She cried out: "Now, Ron I've had enough to drink, and so have you!"

The plan had worked. Harry, alerted, puts his ear against the wall closest towards Hermione's cabin.

Desperately searching for more dialogue, she pushed a chair over on its side, making a loud thud. "Oh Ron! You hurt! Don't talk please! Please let me help you up." Giggling loudly, she criedout, "My, you're so strong!"

At the seemingly no response from Harry, Hermione looked around for something else she could use. She picked up her copy of Hogwarts: A History from her nightstand and threw it down hard on the floor. Then, going even closer to the wall, she cried, in terror, "Ron! No! Ron-what are you doing! Ron! Unless you stop, I'm going to have to ask you to leave! Behave yourself!"

Then, suddenly, she was no longer alone in the room. For her door had been flung open with such violence that it reverberated and Harry strode across the threshold. In one hand, he brandished his wand and glared menacingly around the room.

At the expression on his face when he realized her trick, Hermione cried, with attempted bravado, "I only did this for you, so you could realize it's all over between us!"

Harry looked at her as thought he would like to strike her. "There's only one way to handle you," he told her, grimly. As quick as a cat, he strode over to her, scooping her up effortlessly and started out of the room with her.

"PUT ME DOWN! PUT ME DOWN!" Hermione screamed out, "RON! HELP! I'M NOT ACTING! THIS IS REAL! COME OUT RON!"

Slowly, Harry put her down and reached for his wand. Holding it, he wheeled around on Ron, who came out of his room, and advanced menacingly.

Ron stared at him, making no move to defend himself.

"You take your wand too Ron!" Hermione cried upon seeing the dangerous look on Harry's face.

"I don't need my wand," Ron told her, unruffled.

"Do you want to make anything out of it?" Harry threatened, his grip tightening around the wooden stick.

Ron looked straight into Harry's eye. "I forgive you," he said, in his calm unhurried voice.

Hermione could not believe her affronted ears. "You mean you're not going to hex him?" she demanded incredulously.

Ron only answered calmly as he move passed Harry towards her, "You're so attractive, Hermione that I take it for granted that other men less disciplined will always take liberties with you. Violence shows a lack of character."

"You mean you're not going to do anything to him?" Hermione's voice squeaked out.

"Well would you respect me more if I knocked him down?" Ron asked.

Harry grinned as he watched a cyclone of pure temper tore through Hermione, "WOULD I? WHAT KIND OF A MAN ARE YOU?" she challenged furiously, "How could you be in love with a woman and let someone else paw her?"

"Now Hermione, lets not say anything in anger that we'll be sorry for," Ron said coolly.

"HAVEN'T YOU GOT ANY SELF RESPECT?"

It was at that exact moment that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley decided to stop by for a visit. Completely misinterpreting the turgid silence in the room, they advanced, beaming fondly.

"Surprise!" Mr. Weasley called out generally, "Isn't it wonderful out here?"

"Are you children having a nice time together?" Mrs. Weasley asked indulgently.

But Hermione's temper, mounting like hot lava inside of her, had gone too far for her to be halted by social amenities. Never taking her smoldering eyes off of Ron, she went on in lashing fury. "You and your fancy ideals! You're nothing but a coward!"

"Hermione," Ron said in pained reproof, "Do you realize you're raising your voice? I thought you were a gentle type of girl."

"Very gentle," Harry chimed in with relish. He pointed to a small white scar near his hairline, "How do you think I got this?"

Mrs. Weasley's face was stark, and her eyes almost glassy with horror. "Ronald!" she roared, "I forbid you to marry this—this—woman!"

The words were only fuel to the fire of Hermione's temper, "You forbid him to marry me!" She hurled the words at them, then turned her blazing gaze back again to Ron.

"Listen to me you stuffed shirt!" she said contemptuously, "Even a mouse has enough backbone to fight sometime. Taking your hat off in an elevator doesn't make you a man. You can teach a monkey to do that! And I'll take a mouse or a monkey any day--rather than a lump of –lump of jelly like you!"

But at Harry's ill-timed grin of delight, she focused her anger, like a hot floodlight onto him. "But I'm not taking you!" she assured him violently. She took a deep breath, "Now let me out of here before I forget I'm a lady." Then with her head up, she marched into her own room and slammed the door.

"That which you have just witnessed," Harry commented to the Weasley's as she went back inside, "was one of her quieter moments."

Please Review!


	13. Finale

A/N: Thanks for sticking around for the conclusion of Mr. and Mrs. Potter. I'll be starting a new story titled Hermione Misbehaves, so please look out for it. Please Review!

Chapter 13: Finale

Like something happening in a dream that had no beginning and no ending, Hermione heard the irate departure of the Weasleys, taking Ron with them. Then there was silence in the isolated cabin.

From the window, Harry watched as the three Weasleys rode away in the carriage. He made his way over to Hermione's door and opened it without bother knocking.

Hermione was sitting on the bed, fastening her boots when Harry came into her room. She did not look up at his entrance.

"What are you doing?" he asked curiously, leaning on the doorway.

"The floo network is disconnected and there is no transportation," she answered, her voice like an automaton's, "I'm going to spend the evening at the lodge."

"That's ridiculous," said Harry, "Why don't you spend the night here?"

"Oh no," Hermione replied, shaking her head quickly, "Not on your life."

"How are you going to get there?" he asked, "It's too dark to see anything outside."

"If necessary, on my hands and knees," she answered as she continues to struggle with the clasp on her boots.

"You're not doing me any favors by staying here" Harry told her indifferently, "I'd just as soon you'd get out." But there was no look of indifference in his eyes, or his young eager mouth.

Hermione glared at him, "We see eye to eye."

"In fact, I'll help you get out," he walked over to her and crouched down at her feet. Hermione hesitated for a moment before releasing the clasp.

She leaned back as Harry fastened the clasp and tied the laces to each shoe. After finishing, he stood up.

"Thank you," Hermione said. She tried to stand up but immediately lost her balance and quickly fell back on the bed. Harry had tied her laces together around the leg of the bed. Unable to grab a footing onto the floor, Hermione was unable to get up at all. Livid, she looked fiercely at Harry.

Harry, without a word, merely walked over to the door closed it shut.

"I'm warning you! I'll hex you from here to December!" she threatened, "I'm telling you, don't you try anything!"

Ignoring Hermione's screams, Harry made his way behind her and starts undressing himself for bed.

"Arrrggghh," Hermione cried out, fidgeting, "Harry! Get me out of this!" Suddenly, she managed to get one of her foot to pop out of the shoe. She quickly turned around and saw Harry taking off his jacket with his back towards her. She hastily slipped her foot back into the shoe, "Harry! Get me out of this or I'll break every bone in your body!"

Harry finally leaned over, hovering above her head. He was gazing at her intently and compassionately. There were no tricks, no deception, only honestly and love. Hermione stopped struggling. She watched him with eyes that fought for neutrality, eyes that brooded, and then reluctantly glowed. It was as though her mind had become a forked stream. Down one branch had quietly floated her planned, well-ordered life, with someone who would have made it haven and bulwark.

The other branch of the stream, the branch she was going to take, offered little of either. It would be turbulent and stormy. But then, as she had just rediscovered, so was she.

And when her eyes met Harry's now, her smile was something that Ron had never seen. Harry leaned in slowly and pressed his lips on hers. Automatically, Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck, as the kiss grew more and more passionate.

They had come the longest and unhappiest way round, to find the shortest way home. But she knew, as she went into Harry's arms that this time they had found it, and would keep it, always.

The End


End file.
